


Contaminated

by Minky-way (Cardgamesonmotorcycles)



Series: Intravenous [4]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Arguments, Attempts at Domesticity, Burglary, Dates, Dating, Depression, Dog - Freeform, Drinking, Ex Boyfriend, Foot Massage, Grief, Grieving, Hospitals, Implied Masturbation, Koujaku wakes up, M/M, Making Out, Mourning, Nightmares, Serious Injuries, Shiba Inu - Freeform, Stabbing, Stargazing, Theft, Waking from Coma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-02 12:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10944300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardgamesonmotorcycles/pseuds/Minky-way
Summary: I won't let you close enough to hurt me, but maybe I'll let you close enough to hold me, just for a little while________Otherwise known as: Swab, or the one with all the faking





	1. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how to rate this work, so please let me know if it needs to be rated higher!
> 
> Playlist @ [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/minky-way/04-Contaminated)

Sly Blue was a ridiculously hard man to love. But that was the task the bartender had assigned himself. After a surprising lack of pestering on his part, the unspoken promise of free cigarettes and a warm place to sleep, and with the weight of grief heavy on his shoulders, Sly had agreed to at least try this living together thing.

He did have some limits though, he’d sent these by text the very night he’d agreed; they would try for a week and a week only, then he'd do whatever he wanted and Mizuki couldn't complain. They'd agreed this a week ago, and since then Sly had been completely absent from the bartenders life, his presence on the island barely noticeable. There’d been some vague talk of him being seen in the residential district, looking withdrawn, having been caught stealing easily and reportedly having not fought back during the subsequent beating. Mizuki was worried about him.

 

He assumed he’d changed his mind, as would be well within his character, so Mizuki nearly had a heart attack when he came home after shutting the bar to the sound of his TV blaring into the hallway. His first thought was of burglars, or someone from another Rib team with a grudge, it wouldn't be the first time that had happened, but what kind of bold individual would be so obvious about their intrusion? A quick glance at the open window at the end of the hall and the specks of blood on the wooden floor and door handle, and he knew immediately who his guest was.

"Sly? What happened?” He asked before the door even opened fully, trying not to smear blood on his hand as he hung up his leather jacket, worried now, wondering whether his seeming injuries were self-caused as they had been before. There was no response and Mizuki turned to glance around his living room nervously, eyes searching for that familiar splash of vivid blue. The TV cast long shadows in the dark room, every logical place Sly could be turning up empty. He'd probably already left.

He sighed rather reluctantly, despite agreeing to stay with him a while, it looked like the grieving boy had changed his mind, Mizuki feeling utter uselessness wash over himself as he realized there was nothing he could do to help if he didn’t want to be helped. Feeling too disappointed now to do anything but sleep, he strode in front of the sofa to find the TV remote and turn it off, quietly cursing Sly for not thinking about his electricity bill or how freaked he might be to get home and find the set still on. He was mildly startled, more than mildly, as the sofa behind him made a _noise_ , spinning around with the remote in his hand like a weapon and in some ridiculous pose like he was a ninja or something that he certainly was not.

But he dropped the defensive stance instantly, voice softening and dropping to his knees beside the form on his couch, hovering a hand over his nostrils and checking for breaths because he looked so pale he could honestly be dead. "Sly?"

It was definitely him, blue hair fanning out around him on the dark material, bloodied lip and bruising eye decorating his sallow face. Much paler than usual, Mizuki noted, and with an almost feverish sheen on it, a faint sweat across his brow and lips very pink.

An opened first aid kit, which Mizuki recognized as his own, lay messily around his feet, plasters and rolls of bandages nestling next to a box of cigarettes and what looked like a bag of ecstasy, or some similar pills. Shuffling closer to Sly carefully, aware he was sleeping, Mizuki gave his body a quick scan, the damage on his face was obvious, but the blood seeping through his t-shirt wasn't so easily dismissed. He was going to have to wake him up, something he didn't exactly relish, not only because he was terrible when awoken, but because he looked so peaceful, something nobody would normally equate with the teenager and which he certainly deserved now.

"Sly," shaking his shoulder seemed safe enough, careful to avoid injuring him more, voice soft but firm because he needed to make sure he was okay before anything else, burying the guilt that waking him up would bring him back to painful reality and hand growing firmer on warm skin. "Sly, wake up."

Yellow eyes cracked open minutely, groaning as the light of the TV burnt into their retinas. A groan left swollen lips and he made to roll over, gasping a moment later as, presumably, whatever wound he had throbbed painfully, stopping his movements and eyes landing on Mizuki, almost confused for a second. There was a bleary, semi-conscious state to him even as he cleared his throat and rubbed at his non-bruised eye, movements slow and dizzy like he was close to passing out.

"You're bleeding."

"I hadn't noticed." The voice, though still thick with sleep and slurring, held it's usual, sarcastic, biting tone as yellow eyes met Mizuki's in a weak glare, though the sleepy-dust in his eyes rather ruined its effect.

Deciding not to answer this, Mizuki just rolled his eyes, moving the unorganized first aid kit onto the coffee table in front of the sofa and shooting Sly an unimpressed look even as he hid his growing concern. "Sit up and take your top off." He ordered, just waiting for Sly's amused reply.

"You're keen tonight, didn't know you had a thing for ordering me about." Despite his teasing words, Sly tried to comply, eyes closing as he used the armrest to heave himself upright, head wobbling a little on his neck and exhaling shakily as if the room were spinning. But then the moment had passed and he was pretending to be alright again, slowly, carefully pulling off his layered t-shirts with a hiss of pain and sitting in front of Mizuki, awaiting the scolding he knew was coming.

But he received nothing but a pair of pursed lips and a quiet, almost inaudible tut. "What happened this time?" He asked, voice lacking its usual concern, he was far too used to this by now and he knew Sly didn’t take well to worried comments, keeping them to himself and mentally evaluating what to do. Hands rooting through the green box to find what he needed, needle, thread, antiseptic, gauze, tape.

Sly scowled, looking away as Mizuki began to clean the messy wound with an antiseptic soaked cotton-wool ball, blinking too slowly and inhaling sharply as the sting reached the wound, strange pained noise escaping his throat and hissing. "Got beat up."

Mizuki hadn't exactly been expecting that, preparing himself for a dramatic retelling of the events and being told the other party had ended up worse off and that they deserved it, he was being too stilted and there was definitely still a strong atmosphere of grief circling him.

"You got beaten up?" There was disbelief in Mizuki's tone, which Sly clearly wasn't happy with.

"Yeah, fucking problem?" He spat, looking so tempted to leap up and leave the apartment covered in blood and unstitched, not that he could, jerking indignantly forwards and only succeeding in hurting himself more as the hands on the wound pressed in further than they’d intended.

"No," Mizuki responded calmly, now the wound was clean he could see the extent of the damage. The wound, presumably from a knife, was about a centimetre deep, and about twice the length. "This from a knife?"

"Yeah. Mine."

Mizuki paused, threaded needle in his hand and disbelief in his eyes, brow crinkling because something about this was off-kilter, wrong in all kinds of ways, this whole conversation seemed a few degrees north of their normal. "Yours?"

"That's what I said, Dry Juice." Sly looked even more pissed off than usual, trying to sit up straighter and hand sliding where it tried to push him up, playing off his blatant weakness with another snappy remark neither of them found remotely realistic. "You deaf?"

"How did he get it off you?" From what Mizuki knew, Sly was a strong fighter, and anyone crazy enough to try and take his weapon would likely end up wishing they’d never tried, so to find out somebody had managed to catch him in the first place, then driven him to get out his weapon, then had been able to take it, was worrying. His stomach felt twisted in all the wrong ways.

"He took it off me."

This conversation was going in circles.

"Stay still." Mizuki ordered, preparing to stitch up Sly's wounds for what felt like the millionth time, continuing to quietly, softly question him, trying not to sound  judgmental because that was a sure fire way to make him clam up. "By force?"

Sly's face contorted, he looked almost ashamed as he stared fixedly at the needle stabbing through his skin, trying not to make any pained noises even as his nostrils flared and he hissed through his harshly gritted teeth. "Not exactly."

The words were a whisper, none of his usual swagger or confidence in them, he sounded like an embarrassed child, groaning as his head lolled onto his chest and he watched with sick fascination, the force exerted on the needle to shove it through skin it wasn’t really designed to pierce.

Deciding to let it go for now, Mizuki finished the stitches, noting with sick pride that he was improving at them, and this set was quite straight and neat, sure Sly wouldn’t care at all about the aesthetics but relieved he’d done the best job he could. Glancing up to check Sly wasn't in too much pain, he tied them off and covered the wound with gauze, taping it in place and hoping that would hold, if not, he'd bandage it the next day before he, undoubtedly left.

"Are you staying?" Mizuki tried to keep his voice even, but a touch of want seeped in, making him sound pathetic, even to his own ears. His own desires though, weren’t entirely selfish. He was really worried now, there was a horrible, crawling anxiety in his chest, a sort of inexplicable dread that he couldn’t shove off. This was just another day in Sly’s messed up life, but something was off, he was too quiet and withdrawn, barely objecting to the hand that remained lingering on his knee long after physical touches should have ceased. He wanted to look after him, to make sure he wouldn’t do anything else dumb like seemingly letting himself get stabbed, thoughts of wild, strange methods of indirect suicide filling his head that he couldn’t push away.

It would be just like Sly to put the responsibility of killing himself onto somebody else’s shoulders, after all, why kill yourself when you can easily bait somebody else until they’ll do it themselves and save you the trouble?

But Sly just shrugged, helping himself to a cigarette and offering Mizuki one, which he took, sliding onto the couch beside him and side eying him as subtly as he could, relieved to see his eyes a little less glazed over now. "I agreed to didn't I?"

 

They sat in silence for a moment, smoking their cigarettes and ignoring the unspoken questions between them, temporary break from their back and forth banter and half-formed scowls not as peaceful as it should have been and growing more uncomfortable the longer it continued. Sly’s gaze didn’t seem to focus on anything and he stared at the moving images on the screen as if he couldn’t even see the immaculately dressed woman advertising a special device to cut apples into precise slices. His hand moved on the cigarette rhythmically, mechanically, take a drag, lower it down, tap ash into the tray, exhale, repeat.

The sticks took too long to burn down and the bartender had stubbed his out before he should because he wanted to see Sly alright for the night, wanted to see him safe and in a state where neither physical nor mental pain could affect him. He wanted to be able to keep an eye on him while he slept, to watch his body try and heal for the brief periods of rest he allowed it to have, wanted to check for injuries under the rest of his clothes.

"Come on, it’s late, we should go to bed." Mizuki switched off the TV and offered Sly a hand, which, to his actual amazement he took, keeping hold of it when he was pulled off the sofa, swaying lightly. They were halfway to his room, Sly having detached from him the moment he was upright and had stabilized himself, dropping it the second he stopped swaying from side to side, when Sly crumpled to the floor.

He was at his side instantly, having let him follow along slowly one step behind him, knowing if he refused to accept help that continuing to offer would only make it worse, kneeling down and reaching towards him, unable to hide the tint of fear in his voice, "whoa, whoa, Sly, you okay?”

"Don't fucking _touch_ me." He growled, gripping the wall and trying to pull himself back up, swatting away Mizuki's hands as he tried to help. He couldn't do it, his legs wobbled underneath him and he fell down again and again, clawing at the smooth surface as if thinking a slight handhold would help with how badly he was trembling all over.

There was a light sheen of sweat on his brow and his breathing was hard and labored as he fell once more, panting and crumpled on the ground. His yellow eyes were wide and scared, lips parted and breathing heavily like he’d just escaped a pursuer, but his face was hard and he looked angry as Mizuki lifted him up. He barely weighed a thing, the bartender lifting him under the arms as easily as if he had been a small child, half walking and half carrying him through to his bedroom and only releasing him when he was safely sat down on the bed. He flinched as Mizuki's hand reached towards him, brushing his hair out of his face, and feeling how clammy his skin was, sure he had a fever and hoping he could sleep it off.

"Go to sleep, you need to heal." He urged softly, sitting on the side of the bed opposite him, but making no move to climb in next to him, lifting up the sheets so he could slide under them, unable to hide his dizziness as his head lolled onto the pillows unbidden. Sly regarded him with suspicious eyes, but it was obvious he was exhausted and his hard expression soon faded as sleep overcame him and his lids drifted shut.

When Mizuki kissed his forehead nearly an hour later, he twitched in his sleep, soft mumbles escaping torn lips.

 

* * *

 

The next day began with a crash, as days with Sly always seemed to, but Mizuki had quite forgotten this and shot up, panic and confusion equal in his newly-awakened expression. For a moment fear ran through him, until he noticed the rumpled bedding next to him and the pair of scruffy trainers he recognized too well, remembering who his guest was and how disruptive he loved to be, rolling his eyes at the less than gentle awakening but having not really expected any less.

"Sly?" He called out, standing from the bed and groaning pleasurably as his back clicked, bare feet padding through the apartment, wondering just what chaos his blue-haired guest was causing. What he didn't expect to see, as he rounded the corner into the living room, was the seemingly unconscious body of said guest, lying awkwardly against the wall, tub of painkillers in one hand and white pills spilled all over the floor. They crunched as he stepped on them, any sleepiness gone as he gripped Sly's shoulder, realizing with alarm that he had a large purple bruise forming on his cheekbone, blending in with his already blackened eye.

"Sly!" Mizuki tried shaking him, gently, of course, he had a stab wound already and he didn't particularly want to make it worse or break his already flimsy stitches, but he needed to make sure he could be roused because this was the second time he’d looked dead in less than 24 hours and that was an achievement. "Sly, can you hear me?"

There was silence for a minute in which Mizuki began contemplating ringing someone, maybe one of his teammates who worked at the hospital, but explaining the unpopular Rhymer's presence in his apartment would be difficult.

"Please, talk louder. I don't think they heard you on the mainland." Yellow eyes had flickered open, voice weak but still laced with contempt, fingers trailing across the rounded pills absently and something in his gaze too distant to be anything but worrying.

"Shit, what happened?"

"I decided to take a nap on your floor."

"Sly..." Mizuki's voice was both warning and impatient, and the boy scowled and looked away, trying to hide a wince as he shifted position. "You collapsed again, didn't you?"

"No shit. What are you, a cop?" It was an automatic response and held no fire, like he had an internal repository of comebacks and insults and had snatched one up at random, thrown it out with the hope it would end the interrogation he was getting.

Mizuki was glaring by now, he knew Sly had never taken his own health very seriously, but this wasn’t just some wound, he had to be seriously hurt, or very weak for one reason or another, just hoping he’d be allowed to try and help.

Sly rolled his eyes, heaving himself with some pained grunts to his feet, pushing Mizuki's hands away as he instinctively tried to support him, leaning heavily on the bookshelves beside him and shaking with the effort of his following coughs. "Yes, I collapsed. Happy now?"

"Not really." Two could play at that game. "When did you last eat?"

The childish scowl on Sly's face was ridiculous and he refused to meet Mizuki's eyes, shrugging his shoulders. "I dunno. Tuesday maybe?"

"It's Saturday." Mizuki was rightfully horrified, he'd been able to tell Sly had lost weight yesterday, he’d been noticing for a while in fact, he went through stages of seeming almost emaciated then of getting a little better and almost looking normal. But now his ribs were been pronounced under almost transparent white skin, his eyes were sunken and his collarbones were as sharp as they had been at their first meeting. "Sit down."

"I'm fine standing." Sly argued, meeting Mizuki's eyes with the stupid rebelliousness only teenagers seem to possess, even as he literally swayed on his feet, having to shift over slightly as he lost balance and stumbled towards the very chair he refused to inhabit.

"I said, sit down." Mizuki growled, advancing on Sly angrily, any patience or sympathy gone and now just bubbling with rage at the stupid, stubborn boy who refused to listen to sense. Reluctantly, and with more than a hint of resentment, Sly did as he was told, yanking a chair out from under the table violently and throwing himself into it, more like a collapse than either of them would admit.

"Don't fucking move." Mizuki threatened, turning and walking into the kitchen to retrieve ice for Sly's head, figuring he probably needed it even as he was tempted to leave him to his own devices, stupid and dangerous though they were sure to be.

"I wouldn't dream of it." The voice that floated after him was almost bitter, and Mizuki resolved to find out just how long Sly had been neglecting himself to this level. He had the feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.

 

"Why haven't you been eating?" Mizuki's voice was firm, not allowing room for lies, though of course Sly ignored this even as the bartender swept his hair away gently and pressed the ice to his swelling cheek. His fingers were tentative on his skull as he rolled the ice across the spreading bruising.

"I wasn't hungry." The tilt of the head, wide smirk and arrogant stare made the lie even more obvious, like lying to someone who obviously knew the truth, or some skewed, messed up version of it anyway, the version he was happy to tell.

"Sure you weren't."

"Why Mizuki, it almost sounds like you don't believe me." Sly's words were poison, dripping from his lips like venom and flooding the room with his deceit, anyone else would get away from the vile ooze that spread around him, but Mizuki had become stuck some time ago, like a spider in a web, and had lost any urge to get away.

"Because I don't. Hold that on, I'm making you something to eat."

"I'm not-"

"Shut up, I don't care if you feel sick, if you're not hungry or if you're dying, you're going to eat something,” he tried to sound reasonable even though he was being no such thing, he wasn’t giving him a say in this because he’d never do anything even remotely resembling self-preservation.

"Oh Mizuki-san, you're so caring." Sly's voice adopted a falsetto, similar to that of Koujaku's fans, falsely sweet and cloying, dropping into a low hiss second later and scowling so darkly he winced at the twist of his aching face. "It's fucking disgusting."

“Oh, I’m sorry, why was it you were here again?” Sarcasm dripped from his words and discontent was thick in the air between them, easier to say things with bite than it was to be genuine and soft, to clearly state what the issue here was. Sly was hurt and weak and Mizuki wanted to look after him, but if he didn’t want it too Mizuki would be cold as him.

“Oh yes, I remember, because you agreed to it, because you wanted to be. If you want to leave then fine, but don’t stay and be an asshole when I just want to help.”

Dead silence fell and there was no surprise in tired yellow, eyes rolling high to the ceiling and huffing a disingenuous sigh as if he were the one being inconvenienced, but he knew the truth of the words, that he never had to agree to anything and that he alone was the reason he was with Mizuki in the first place.

“So are you hungry or not?”

“Yes, I’m hungry. I’m always hungry.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” he got a funny look then, questioning and confused though he didn’t bother to give clarification, escaping into the kitchen with it’s cool air and not a speck of yellow in sight.

 

“So, how’ve you been?” He distracted from the question by lowering down a mug of coffee, black and decaffeinated because the last thing either of them needed was to lose sleep, yellow eyes looking more awake now and pleased to see torn fingertips holding toast, half eaten already. He hadn’t just said he was hungry to get him off his back then.

“How have I been? What are you, a hairdresser?”

“I- What? No, I just mean, cause-“ He was baffled instinctively, because how on earth would Sly know a hairdressers patter? But he remembered again that he didn’t know him as well as he might pretend to, and that he must have had a life with the parents who had abandoned him for a while, perhaps things had started for him in an infinitely normal way.

“Because my brothers dead? Yeah, I’m just golden, thanks for asking, how’s your week been?”

“Sly,” he sighed, exasperated, little voice in his head that sounded worryingly like Tio reminding him to consider other people’s feelings, pausing to think that he was grieving in his own way and that being blunt was who he was, of course he’d seen through his badly formulated ruse. “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“My brother’s dead, of course I’m not. Even you’re not that dumb.”

“You don’t normally like to admit it, that’s all.”

  
“Yeah well, I can’t exactly deny it can I? Not after what happened.” He sounded more ashamed than anything else, and Mizuki just wished he realized he’d felt nothing but sympathy for him, he’d never dreamed of pitying or judging him, he’d been far too occupied with Sly's hysteria to really think about anything that deeply. Seeing him freak out like that had been more than horrible, he thought about it every time he saw him, the half-smile on his face being obscured by the memory of tears and his features crumpled up like old cardboard.

“I suppose not. But, I was wondering…”

His voice petered off and Sly wasn’t about to encourage him to continue, munching on toast that caught in his throat and stomach whining about how long it had been empty, knowing Mizuki knew why he had lost the fight and gotten hurt. It wasn’t like him, to go without food for so long he couldn’t even defend himself properly, he guessed the bartender would have plenty to say about that if he’d told him it had been deliberate.

It didn’t feel right to stuff his face with his brother gone.

“Why did you agree to this?”

“I didn’t want to be by myself,” Mizuki had obviously been expecting him to pause before answering, or maybe to not answer at all, both were in his nature, so when he spoke instantly the bartender was the only one surprised. He didn’t know how to respond though, just making a soft noise in his throat and nodding slowly, thinking it was understandable and hoping he was present enough for him despite the distance Sly insisted there be between them. Glancing around the apartment as if he hadn’t been there a hundred times before, changing the subject with a thick clear of his throat and a move to bacon. “So. What do normal people do?”

He laughed at that, aloud, a sudden bark to hide how much it hurt to see him looking around like he had no idea what to do now he knew he was staying for a while, his pose tense and hard on the dining chair and so out of place there was little to do but pretend things were fine.

“Whatever they want to, normally.”

“Right.” That wasn’t information that helped him much, because what he wanted to do right now was curl into a ball and not do much of anything at all, but he knew that would draw questions and worries so he wouldn’t. But then what was he expected to do? To fill up the hours of the day with meaningless nonsense he wouldn’t be able to focus on properly until it was late enough to go to bed unquestioned and hope unconsciousness would be swift and generous for once. “Do you have work?”

“Mm, not til six though. I can stay here instead, if you want?”

“No. I don’t want you here.” That sounded mean but his tone was so hollow he couldn’t look up as Mizuki sighed again and it was worried and understanding and several other things he didn’t much appreciate.

 

* * *

 

Two hours of bland afternoon television later, and Mizuki was so infinitely bored that he figured he needed to do something before he either went completely mad or yelled at Sly to just talk to him for once, sick of watching him pretend he was fine. So he stood from the couch instead and his guest didn’t so much as move even as the cushions rising caused him to tilt a little to the left, fixing his tucked in pose silently and gazing at the advertisement for toothpaste like he was actually interested.

"You want a coffee?"

"Yeah, whatever."

Mizuki rolled his eyes, Sly was as objectionable as always, sat on the sofa with a scowl on his face, flicking through the channels disinterestedly and occasionally pausing on something with eyes so blank Mizuki knew he couldn’t take any of it in.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The bartender muttered, rolling his eyes and disappearing into the kitchen for the second time that day if only to escape, voice in his head saying that this had not only been a terrible idea, but that he’d also decided to carry it out at exactly the wrong time.

 

He looked a little more human with something to occupy him, sipping at the bitter liquid even though Mizuki was sure he wasn’t actually all that fond of coffee, finding a documentary about serial killers that both of them might enjoy and shoulders lowering a tiny fraction. He still looked tired and small when Mizuki managed to encourage him to eat a snack when it got to lunchtime but he refused to eat anything proper, forcing a cereal bar on him and listening to him whine about how boring all his food was.

“Feel free not to eat it.”

He just got a dark expression and he held out his empty coffee mug silently, Mizuki not entirely sure what he wanted but returning with a refill for him anyway, turning back to the TV because that was easier than watching Sly sink into himself.

 

* * *

 

“Okay,” he’d stood up about half an hour before he normally  to start getting ready, freshening up in the bathroom and running a razor over his stubbly cheeks, choosing something to wear and making sure everything in the house would be okay for Sly while he was gone. He addressed him now, about to leave and boots already slipped onto his feet, lingering by the arm of the couch where Sly had barely moved all day, eyes shifting to the overflowing ashtray. “I’ll be back at like two.”

“Mm-hm.”

That hadn’t been much of a response and he hesitated before speaking again, biting his lip uncomfortably and deciding that maybe he should have just stayed with him anyway, he didn’t feel safe leaving him alone. “Will you be okay by yourself?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Are you going to say anything other than ‘mm-hm?’”

Their eyes met and for a moment neither of them conceded, Mizuki raising an eyebrow and Sly opening his mouth to pop out a word, stubborn and childish even as he did what he’d been indirectly asked to, “nope.”

“Right, well, I guess I’ll see you later then,” the door closed behind him quietly and Sly pretended he hadn’t heard the slice of disappointment in his voice.

 

* * *

 

“Mizuki, are you okay? You look sick.”

Thoughts flooded him all at once, surprise that Kin had arrived first and before Tio, especially since they usually walked in together, an amusing thought that if anybody here looked sick, it was Kin. In fact the second he turned towards him, he almost wanted to send him home, regarding the bags under his eyes and the messy state of his hair, polo shirt crumpled at the collar. He couldn’t say any of that though, it would make it obvious he wasn’t okay by deflecting the question back onto the asker, “hm? Oh, no, Kin, I’m fine, I didn’t sleep so well.”

Kin didn’t respond, just nodded with tightly sealed lips and turned away once he received the reassuring pat on the arm he expected, bartender slipping past him to escape into the back room to work on designs, or perhaps to brood. Something was definitely on Mizuki’s mind and he didn’t look ill as much as he did queasy with nervousness, face somewhat clammy and fingers too wobbly on the till as he paused to turn back to him.

“Oh, Tio told me about your cocktail shift the other day. You think you’ll be good for this week?”

“Um,” Kin felt weirdly betrayed to begin with, immediately feeling that hot pang of shame at his abysmal performance, knowing Tio would have had to tell him but feeling ashamed anyway, dread at where this might go filling him until he felt sick. His words were stilted and jerky, making excuses he barely believed and sure Mizuki already knew something was wrong, had seen his eyes linger slightly too long on his tired expression as he smiled to reassure himself as much as anyone else, “yeah, I’ll be fine, it was just an off day.”

“Alright, I know you can do it.”

His smile was so genuine and warm that for a moment Kin’s returning grin was real too, hearing the bar door open and aware of the second Mizuki decided to leave, a diplomatic departure.

 

They went about their tasks for a little while first, Tio ditching his thin jacket and bag in the back room when he arrived, helping himself to a coke and popping open a red bull for Kin without comment, watching as he drank it a little too fast, about to open his mouth to ask for help with putting the chairs out when the other spoke, interrupting his thought.

“What’s wrong with Mizuki?” It was pretty blunt, not the usual way he’d express concern about his boss, with reverence he didn’t necessarily deserve considering some of the states Kin had seen him in.

“What do you mean?”

“He seems… I don’t know, off, somehow,” he shrugged then, figuring that if Tio didn’t already know, it could only be his imagination, following Tio’s lead to remove chairs from the tables they sat on, pausing to debate his words before deciding there was no use lingering over them. “He’s not drinking again is he?”

“Nah, he’s pretty much sober all the time. He in the back?” Kin was nearer the bar than he was, figuring his plan as Tio abandoned the chair he’d just neatly lowered to the ground and approached him, resting a hand on his arm to reassure him that really, the last thing he needed to be doing was worrying about somebody else.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, you hold the fort for me.”

His expression brightened along with the hand lingering to squeeze his arm, skin warm under his palm and seeming reassured now he’d been trusted with a task, even if it was as small as preparing the bar for incoming customers. “Can do.”

 

Tact. That was what he was going for here, diplomacy, subtlety, all that stuff that wouldn’t make it obvious he had any kind of agenda, oh no, this was just a nice check in with his friend and employer before the shift began. Or at least that was his intention until he realized he was good enough at faking that Mizuki wouldn’t catch on and let anything spill, he’d just smile and reply to anything he asked and not sense the intrusion in the air.

“Yo, Mizuki, what you up to back here?”

“Nothing much, just sketching out a design for Maya later on, she phoned and said she wanted to edit the designs on the cross a little, and the bird wasn’t quite what she wanted.”

Tio slid it towards himself, regarding it absently, not really sure it was his thing but guessing it was at least well drawn if nothing else, sliding it away so Mizuki could carry on, pencil still in hand, “hm, it’s a bit creepy, isn’t it?”

“Sorta, it’s based on work by an artist on the mainland, she really loves his style but she can’t exactly get there so…” he shrugged then, grinning and not even thinking that Tio might be asking out of anything but genuine curiosity. “I said I’ll try my best to get it right.”

“That’s pretty cool.” Here it was, his chance for a neat little segue into the actual issue here, Kin’s suspicions that had rapidly grown into Tio’s own nosiness, leaning against the steel counter a little too casually, drawing circles into it with his fingertips and being anything but subtle. “So, how’re things with you?”

He was wary immediately, and of course he was, who asked their friends questions like that unless something either had been or was wrong, smiling disarmingly and earning some much deserved narrowed eyes. “How’d you mean? Did Kin say something?”

“No, no, he uh, he didn’t say-“ Mizuki turned then and shot him the least impressed look ever, half amused at how obvious a lie it was, snorting as Tio changed tactic and figured there was no use lying. “I mean, okay fine so maybe he did say something. So, anything wrong?”

“No,” he answered a tiny bit too fast, just the tiniest bit too insistent while also not being particularity believable, pausing in his shrug and, inclining his head to the side, continuing with a little more uncertainty. “Not, _wrong._ ”

“Something on your mind then?”

“Yeah, that’s more like it. It’s uh, you know… The usual.”

“Sly?” It didn’t really hurt to ask now, it was always Sly when it came to Mizuki and the idea of them together was less horrifying each day, or he told himself that anyway, he had the feeling that seeing them together might be a different story to the one his mind concocted.

“Yeah. I told you something happened, I’m worried about him, I guess.” It felt strange to admit it, possibly just because it was to Tio, but suddenly just how worried he was hit him and he realized, belatedly, just how scared this whole thing had made him, because Sly could be fragile sometimes, but never had been to this extent before.

“Hm, you won’t tell me what?”

“Sorry, Tio, but no. He did um, agree to live with me for a bit though.”

He didn’t know how to react and it was obvious, nodding slowly and glancing upwards as if he’d give some sign he was there, taking up space in an apartment that Tio felt should be empty, shame flooding him as he realized how hard the news had hit. But he could swallow it down and summon a smile up as if there weren’t snakes twisting through his intestines, “that’s cool, how long for?”

“He said a week, I dunno, I guess if he likes it he’ll stay longer?”

“Mm, well at least you can look after him while he’s with you, you know, because of, whatever happened.”

“If only it was that easy.” His jaw had hardened and the pencil clattered as it hit the sideboard hard enough for the lead inside to shatter, changing the subject just as fast, smiling so convincingly as he patted Tio’s shoulder that he felt significantly freaked out. “Anyway, we should go help Kin.”

 

* * *

 

It was weird, having to creep into his own apartment, even weirder that he didn’t know if he was creeping to avoid Sly waking up or to avoid him altogether, not sure he could bear to see him sat there looking so dead to the world. So he toed off his boots quietly and put his jacket over the back of a dining chair, flicking on the kitchen light and living room empty, bathroom door open and silent beyond.

He must be in the bedroom then, having an internal battle between how tired he was, and the selfish, afraid part of him that didn’t want to be in a room where the very air was thick with melancholy, sighing as he realized if he didn’t check on him he’d feel terrible.

Worst situation; Sly was awake and visibly upset, crying, staring into space, with bandages on his arms. Best situation; he’d be peacefully asleep or would somehow have bounced back and would swear at him and ask why the fuck he was being such a creep.

Some part of him knew it would be a combination of both.

 

But he pushed the door open anyway, holding it in place and poking his head inside the dark room, not able to hear any movement and reluctant to wake him when sleep would be the best thing for him right now. His voice was so soft it was almost lost entirely amongst cushioned sheets and memory foam that would remember the past far longer than he could, “Sly?”

“I’m still awake, you don’t have to whisper.” His voice was still strong, only the tiniest hint of resentment in it, not moving from his position or giving any other indication that he wanted to be spoken to. Mizuki wondered what would have happened had he just climbed into bed beside him, almost certain he would have pretended to be asleep to avoid this.

“Oh, sorry,” but he wasn’t. “You want some company?”

Sly’s head was swimming with things he wanted to say but the lies on the tip of his tongue were far easier to let fall, slipping silkily out onto the ground between them and quieting the part of him that wanted to shove them away for once where they couldn’t hurt him more.

“No.” _Yes._

“Okay, did you find something to do while I was gone?”

“Mm.” _No._

“What’d you do?”

“Watch TV.” _Curl up on the couch and lie still for three hours smoking a twenty pack then inhaling a packet of cookies._

“Okay,” his hand thudded weakly against the doorframe, not knowing what to say and unsure whether Sly was lying or not, no signs in the apartment that he’d done much of anything at all, not that watching TV left much evidence. But if he wanted to be left alone he’d do as he was told, not sure what to say because he was pretty tired and asking to be let into his own bed had been a little foolish. “Yell me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Mm. You got any cigs?”

“Yeah, most of a pack,” he got it out of his pocket without thinking about it, Sly turning a little to drape one arm across the bed, taking the cardboard and lighting up immediately, there was little else to say then so he left quietly, footsteps padding away and his guest not turning to regard the empty space until he was gone, sighing and sliding one hand up onto the unoccupied pillow, allowing himself to feel lonely for just a second.

“I lied!”

Mizuki paused in his tracks, halfway into the living room and almost to the couch he’d been planning on flopping onto, Sly’s voice breaking through the apartment easily and almost making him jump, eyes narrowing as he headed back into the room he’d just been asked to leave. “About what?”

“Lots of things.”

“Specifically.” He obviously regretted speaking already, having twisted onto his back and one arm spread out across the messy sheets towards him, eyes crinkling at the corners and fingers twiddling almost nervously around a soon to be dead cigarette.

“I don’t..?”

“I mean right now.”

“Oh. I don’t want you to leave. Stay here and sit in miserable silence with me.”

“Okay. But tell me one thing first.”

“Sure.” He shrugged, rolling back onto his designated side of the bed, stabbing out the smoking butt and shifting onto his side to regard him with honest curiosity, expression open and the fog over his gaze lifted, if only a little.

“Why do you lie?”

“I’d tell the truth if I could. But it… gets stuck on the way out.” Mizuki just nodded and ditched his boots onto the bedroom floor, picking up the book he’d been intending on reading for months now, and settling onto the bed to join Sly’s silent vigil.

 

 

Sly hadn’t moved since he’d left the room for a nearly hour long shower, and at first he assumed it was because he’d been asleep, only a quick walk around the bed crushing his naive ideas, ashtray overflowing with butts and ash, fingertips hovering millimeters over the glass surface. He must have fallen asleep with one in his fingers, long stem of ash almost complete, breaking off as Mizuki gently took the butt from his fingers, lifting the tray onto the bedside table and hesitating, crouched in front of Sly.

He wanted to do something, to reach out and tuck his hair behind his ear, or smooth out the deep wrinkle on his forehead, to thumb his cheek gently and whisper that it was okay, things would get better. But he didn’t do anything, he snuck around again and regretted and debated on bad timing as he stripped down to boxers, Sly fully dressed beside him and curled into himself even as he spread out and drifted into shamefully peaceful dreams.

 

Sly woke up first, and for the first few blissful seconds where he yawned and rubbed his eyes and watched the cool blue light streaming through the blinds, he’d forgotten everything, his brain returned him to a normal morning waking up beside Mizuki. But he was still dressed and his back didn’t sting with scratches and everything came back as the familiar haze of depression settled over him again, sinking back into the sheets to stare blankly at the wall.

There was only one question burning urgent and hot against his lips, but he’d never considered himself stupid enough to ask things when he knew the answer already, closing his eyes and thinking of soft olive speaking the words he needed to hear.

‘As long as you need.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character Designs, updates, ficart and other things of interest- [here](http://minky-way.tumblr.com/tagged/intravenous-series)


	2. Depression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist @ [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/minky-way/04-Contaminated)

Early mornings and back to that same apathetic stare, wet hair trailing down his bare chest where he’d not bothered to put a shirt back on, leaving the bathroom with a cigarette in his mouth already and sitting, legs tucked under him, on the couch. It should have been a domestic image, but something in his hollow spine seemed to be curved inwards and the bowls of his collar could have be filled with water or tears.

The apartment wasn’t cold, summer was creeping in after all, but Sly was shivering, pretending not to be, trying to hide it with scowls and rubbing his arms as if he had an ache there and wasn’t just trying to flatten down stubborn Goosebumps.

“Cold?”

“No.”

He took a deep breath, then another two, and really felt no calmer, wondering what a better human being would do then realising that logic was flawed, because if he knew that would make him a better person to begin with. “Sure about that?”

“Positive.” But Mizuki could see his body trembling and even before he’d lost weight he hadn’t been the best at maintaining his temperature, turning to regard him and raising one shoulder passive aggressively even as ash fell into his lap where his hands wouldn’t stay still in the warm air.

It was less a snap and more of a springing back, like an elastic band that had been stretched tighter and tighter, but finally Mizuki had allowed it to release before it just tore in two. It didn’t stop his voice sound any less pissed off though. “Look, me trying to do what I think you need isn’t working. Tell me what I can do, how can I help?”

“You really think you can help?” Not scornful, genuinely stunned that he might be so confident in his abilities to break a hole through the dark shroud he’d happily pulled around himself, to break through the barrier that was keeping reality and the truth separated.

“I can try. So, anything I can do to help?”

He contemplated this for a moment, a long moment, stretching into ten as Mizuki muttered he’d give him time to think, disappearing into the kitchen and returning maybe as long as twelve minutes later. Sly knew. He’d been counting, considering how long was quite long enough. Accepting the milkshake bottle pushed into his hand, because if he refused to eat he could at least get calories by drinking. Mizuki’s words, not his.

“A distraction would be nice.”

He nodded, debating this in his head, hearing the honest tone and glad he’d been able to think of something, running through movies and games and things that were physical enough to detach the brain from grief for just a short while. Better to clarify though, “what kind of distraction?”

“Use your imagination,” those yellow eyes had tilted to meet his, body unmoving as if set in cold plastic, lips parting to exhale and moving jerkily for another cigarette to join the pile of their already dead brothers. No teasing or taunting in his words, just stating it as a clear fact, not an attempt to seduce but a blank, almost clinical demand for Mizuki to think about what he wanted.

“You think that’ll help?”

“Probably.” Of course it wouldn’t, it would be a temporary respite at best, if anything he’d probably feel worse afterwards for letting himself feel anything but misery, that was what grieving people were meant to do, not fuck it all away in the vain hope they’d forget for a fleeting hour or so.

“You can’t think of anything else?”

“You’ve never been this reluctant to fuck me before.”

“I’m not reluctant now, I’m just,” he stopped, unable to formulate the words, sighing and nudging at the bottle in Sly’s hand, commanding him to drink instead of just staring into its caramel flavoured depths. “I’m making sure this isn’t stupid.”

“It’s not.”

He wasn’t sure, but he’d asked and it would be cruel to get an answer then refuse it.

“Alright. So, right now?”

“I’m not doing anything else.”

“Drink that first at least,” Sly could agree to that, making renewed effort to finish it even as his stomach complained and he felt ill at the mere idea of consuming something that would keep himself going. Mizuki took a cigarette and like that a few moments passed, Sly handing the emptied bottle over for inspection and turning to face the bartender as he nodded in approval and regarded him with a small frown.

“You’re going to give yourself wrinkles,” Sly’s hand had smoothed across the bartenders forehead instinctively, remembered his brother doing that in the stronger days when he could raise his arm, recalled trails of wires and tubes following the sallow skin.

But then Mizuki kissed him and he’d forgotten again.

 

He met him halfway, but then he’d _always_ met him halfway so at least some things didn’t have to change, not the hands on his sides or the familiar, reassuring weight pressing down on him, not the lips just a little too gentle on his neck. Nothing here had to change so he could close his eyes and relax into the sensations of it, the feeling of being taken away from this all to somewhere else where all that remained was the smell of coffee and ink and cheap deodorant when he could afford better.

After initially checking this was what he needed, what he wanted, Mizuki left him alone, only pausing once when his breath hitched too wetly to be anything but utterly desperate and he whispered into his ear, nuzzling at his neck.

“You okay?”

“Fine, don’t stop.” So he pressed a kiss onto his shoulder and a hand into his hair, and he didn’t.

 

Sly fell asleep almost immediately after, and with how much he’d been tossing and turning the night before, Mizuki wasn’t surprised, leaving him to his nap after another guilty glance at his face, lips parted and too pink. His hair was a mess where it trailed across the pillow and he wanted to comb it out but feared waking him. He feared a lot of things.

So he went into the gym instead, because if Sly needed to fuck to forget, then surely Mizuki could feel no guilt for using his own, home-grown coping mechanism, putting in a couple of sweaty hours on the treadmill, letting the pound of his feet and his own harsh breaths drown everything out.

 

* * *

 

Of all the questions to ask after sex, “How you feeling?” wasn’t the one he’d expected to leave his lips, but somehow it had been and he guessed he could have asked a weirder one, wondering whether it had really helped at all and guessing it had a little as he rolled over and his incredulous stare was only half-hearted. He wondered if Sly had even realised he’d left the bed then returned, figured he didn’t much care either way because he’d accepted his presence as easily as if it had always been there.

“Fine. How are _you_ feeling?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, then he grinned and it was like a flickering lightbulb, Mizuki couldn’t trust it when he knew it’d fizzle out any minute, just smiling back weakly as his voice turned silky and teasing, almost bragging. “But aren’t you thrilled that I asked?”

“Only so we’d stop talking about you.”

“Mm, and clever, too, you really are the full package.” If he didn’t know what was going on he’d say Sly was flirting with him, he’d always been like that after all, since the time they’d first met and he’d checked him out and been brazenly obvious about it too. But now, with the context of this and their desperate daytime fucking and the fatigue in Sly’s sprawled out limbs and tangled hair, it sounds false, grating against his expanses of bare flesh and he can’t take it anymore.

“Sly, look,” his voice is too serious, stern like he’s about to burst into a lecture and Sly’s eyes are harder and glassier as they dart up to meet his, expression closing off in mere seconds and recoiling psychologically if not physically. “I am _trying_ here, to… To help you. But it’s not going to work if you’re so shut off like this, what do you want me to do, pretend nothing happened? Pretend like your brother isn’t dead and it didn’t completely destroy you?”

“It didn’t destroy me.”

“You sure about that? You seem pretty torn apart to me.”

“You know what would help? If you’d stop using this as a reason to _attack_ me. I’m sorry if my brother dying made me a little unreasonable, I’ll suck it up, shall I?” It was strange, that his words were tinted with anger but his face was hurt, pained every time his twin was brought up and even more now, knowing full well that Mizuki didn’t know how to deal with this, knew he was making it worse. But he wasn’t the kind to reassure somebody that their mistakes were okay.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I never know what you mean.” He rolls away but he’s still in the bed beside him and there isn’t much space between them when Mizuki shifts a little closer, sliding a hand into his hair and ignoring the shaky exhale of breath he hears as he begins combing it out like he’s wanted to for a while now. It’s easy to whisper an apology into the air between them and easier still to pretend the barb of Sly’s acceptance isn’t softer than it would be with anybody else.

It would be easier to kiss his shoulder and up to his neck, to flip him over for a belated round two. He knew Sly would let him. Harder though to just lie there, aware of yellow eyes staring at his reflection in the mirror opposite as he focuses on untangling the one thing he can, scratching at his skull and feeling his temple twitch with a smile as Amaya jumps up onto the bed to join the moment.

 

* * *

 

Frost had made a home behind his eyelids, slowing each exquisitely painful blink to a slow drag of lashes across yellow, heartbeats slow and shallow behind his mossy ribcage, soft sigh escaping like mist over dew dropped grass. An almost attractive illusion, this still serenity, unmoving as the world rushed around just beyond the reach of his grasping fingers, staring through the haze of pretence that embraced him. Soft and relaxed and going nowhere, pulse thrumming a staccato beat in his veins and each swallow loud as waterfalls as he cleared his parched throat. Tendrils of wisping, fleeting steam escaping into the pale atmosphere along with a heady scent that spoke of little sleep and vivid daydreams, everything around drifting into insignificance as his every sense honed in on warmth and familiarity.

“You’re meant to drink that.”

He jerked back to reality so fast it was like the idealistic mirror he’d been staring into had been smashed over his head, suddenly catching himself as if he’d been on the verge of falling all this time without noticing, gasp leaving immediately mobile lips. There was a moment of sheer confusion as reality trickled back and there was a large, rough palm on his face, pushing his fringe back and bringing reassurance along with it.

“You okay? I didn’t mean to make you jump,” it seemed he’d had no choice, whether he’d wanted to make him or not he could have approached with the utmost of care and he still would have recoiled like he’d woken abruptly from a nightmare. He just blinked, clearing his throat and pulling himself up into the chair better, wincing as his legs adjusted position finally and not moving to take the hand away, it was grounding him. He closed his eyes as it shifted to his cheek, tucking hair behind one ear and trailing across his jaw carefully, ears so sensitive after the time in stoic silence, hearing every soft exhale and the drag of skin across skin.

“Zoned out.”

“Hm, you back now?” His eyes eased open stiffly, as if the very notion were new to him, and it really was like he’d been in another place altogether, stare so very open and wide that his slow nod didn’t really register. He sighed then, as if exhaling tension out of his very being, still vulnerable and distant under Mizuki's hand, tilting his face into the touch and swallowing thickly, registering then why this whole thing had happened. His hand looked weirdly foreign where it curled up against his mug, angled so there was a dip in the flesh where his thumb ended and his hand began, flexing the fingers idly and wondering when they’d become so bony and pale.

Mizuki knew better than to speak, to ask why he was behaving as if his hand was foreign to him, watching his grip increase although he made no move to lift the mug, carefully twisting three fingers around the handle, pinkie turning red from the residual heat. He just lowered his hand to his shoulder, playing with a lock of hair, twisting it between his fingertips as Sly blinked again, a film of confusion being torn aside every time yellow met the world again.

Mizuki shifted then, to move away because Sly looked conscious now and was sure to bat his hand away soon, jumping himself when cold fingers wrapped around his wrist in quiet disapproval, pulling until he sat beside him on the couch. Toes tucked up under his thigh as Sly curled up small and serene, head seconds away from resting on his shoulder but not quite, mug left behind and eyes closed, breathing slow and shallow.

“You okay?”

“Be quiet.” He could follow that instruction easily enough, shuffling about a little to be comfortable, Sly all but leaning on his side, an insignificant weight he could almost feel seeping the heat out of him, not minding much. Easier to do what he asked when his voice was tinged with nothing but detached warmth, softly asking him to do something that would help, bedding down beside him almost like Amaya, toes curling under his legs and falling flat again.

 

He assumed he’d fallen asleep and busied himself with his coil, checking customer email enquiries and noting his schedule was open until his shift later that night, debating something for a good ten minutes before nodding resolutely and putting in his wireless earphones.

The ringing sound carried on for too long and he almost wanted to hang up, but then he remembered easy acceptance and reluctant pride in a familiar voice and held on a little longer instead, Amaya sitting neatly on his feet as if insisting he did this.

Tio picked up on what had to be the ninth ring, answering with such a distracted tone Mizuki wondered if he’d interrupted something, wondering what time it was and wanting to twist to look at the clock but worried he’d irritate Sly, or scare him again, not sure which was worse.

“Yo.”

“Hey, I’m going to the hospital later to see Koujaku, thought you might want to come?” He hadn’t thought that at all, he’d seen the nervousness in Tio’s eyes the last time, the waves of discomfort rolling off him as they’d sat there next to his unconscious body, his inability to do anything but look distressed had shown clear reluctance to return again. But duty called, he supposed.

“Sure, what time?”

He hadn’t thought about that, glancing to where Sly seemingly slept at his side, knowing that if he moved, he would certainly wake and this time he wouldn’t be as gracious with his behaviour, debating this before speaking. “Hm, not for an hour or so probably. We could go for a run first? I doubt he’d mind us showing up all sweaty.”

He should have laughed at that, or at least chuckled uncomfortably, but he didn’t, just agreed and yawned as if it wasn’t nearly noon, words casual and passive enough to not seem odd, “yeah, sounds good to me, meet at yours?”

“Sure.”

They said their goodbyes without ceremony, there was background noise in Tio’s snap that sounded like more than one person, and Mizuki wondered if maybe he was out somewhere until the second before he hung up with an alarmed but good humoured remark to ‘get the hell off my plant, pervert.’ He just blinked his surprise at the coil, lowering it down into his lap and sighing, eyes closing as he eased himself into the couch, Sly’s hair tickling his shoulder and little more to see than his blank ceiling when his eyes reopened. He felt heavy and he wondered if perhaps Sly’s sadness was rubbing off onto him, it was difficult to remain positive with somebody so mournful around, and Mizuki wasn’t exactly a beam of light himself most days.

A voice broke through his thoughts though, a small smile in it accompanied by an attention seeking meow from his feet and the sudden, alarming feeling of his cat walking across his crotch. “I’m awake by the way.”

“I swear you’re the best person at faking sleep I know.” He sounded more impressed than he’d intended and Sly’s lip twitched up as if he was proud at the indirect compliment, expression present and eyes sharp for the first time in days, canines gleaming as he teased him.

“Watch a lot of people sleep, do you?”

“Nah, just you.”

“I feel honoured. And hungry.”

Mizuki actually smiled then, the displeased frown/pout on Sly’s face too innocent and normal for him to feel anything but relieved, he’d admitted that he was hungry, that he needed food to survive and that today he was willing to accept that. “I’ll make you something.”

Sly just ignored him and held his hand out to Amaya as if she’d ever refuse him.

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t stupid, but forgetful perhaps, knocking and entering immediately after a voice from within yelled that it was open, eyes flashing towards movement and locking with Sly’s where he sat on the couch munching what looked like a cereal bar. The silence stretched on for an awkward minute as he lingered in the doorway, evaluating the situation to be one of little risk considering he could hear Mizuki in his bedroom, available to step in if things got nasty. Instead he cleared his throat, closed the door behind him and offered a polite, if not stilted, “afternoon,” accompanied by a weak smile.

“Yo,” he answered a lot more lazily but a significant amount more genuinely too, not bothered much by Tio’s presence in the apartment, just continuing with his mission to free his lap from Amaya before disappearing for a few hours, being cooped up inside all day was making him feel crazy. “Your boyfriend not with you?”

  
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Not stupid again, but forgetful, actually confused for a moment as to the place this conversation was heading, frowning and watching Sly try to extricate himself from under the cats green eyed stare. He just clenched a fist as realisation crept in and he felt his hackles rise again, sick of always being teased using somebody else and about to open his mouth to tell him to fuck off or something similar, pleased as Amaya hissed and dug claws into Sly’s arm. He tried to hold back a laugh of incredulity as Sly hissed back, twice as intimidatingly, teeth bared and seemingly unaware of how insane he looked, arguing with a cat like this, managing to shove her off his lap only to tangle between his feet.

“Fine, fine, that guy you’re always with then, I forget his name.”

“Kin.”

“That’s the one, so, where’s he at then?”

“He’s got work.”

A raised eyebrow in his direction, an expression that stated he thought he was being stupid, but somehow still not as mean as he normally was, pushing a foot into a ginger flank with a glare he didn’t mean. “In a bar at two in the afternoon?”

“He has another job.”

“Hm, saving up for your engagement ring, is he?” He was being taunted again, but something about this was just joking enough for him to not get riled up about it, or not a lot anyway, rolling his eyes and refusing to play into his game. He got bored soon enough, Amaya meowing up at him pitifully and earning a rather blank, yellow-eyed stare before he padded into the kitchen with her close behind, sound of dry food being poured out seconds later the only sign that he harboured secret affection for the feline.

“Hey, Tio, sorry, couldn’t find clean socks, Sly keeps stealing them all.” He smiled warmly enough but he couldn’t help notice the strained expression he received, the sound of the fridge slamming in the kitchen and the kettle croaking into life. Lowering his voice so the subject of their conversation wouldn’t overhear, “he isn’t being a dick again, is he?”

“When isn’t he,” but the bartenders face had fallen into disappointment and despite his disapproval of this entire odd union, he wanted to try and support him in what he did, even if that was Sly Blue. “But not as bad as normal, no.”

“Oh, okay, cool. You want lime or blackcurrant?”

“Lime.” He asked the same question before every run so it wasn’t hard to decide, debating mentioning that Sly looked as if he needed the sugary sports drink more than him, deciding Mizuki wasn’t blind enough to not take one look at him and think anything but _sick._

“Alright,” he disappeared into the kitchen and he tried to ignore the sounds of soft conversation and an almost spat demand to stop being such a _fucking queer already_ , feeling intrusive and surprised things were going as well as they were.

 

* * *

 

“Spill, what happened?” It wasn’t too fast a pace to not be able to have a conversation, and they were out of the town centre enough now to not be overheard, Tio wondering if maybe Mizuki would tell him now what was going on instead of being evasive.

“With what?”

“Sly. He agreed to stay with you pretty fast, and he’s… Different too, nicer. That’s not the right word. But something _must_ have happened, people don’t switch 180 overnight.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, something did happen. But I still don’t think I can tell you? I mean, it’s not… Okay maybe it is kinda none of your business, it’s just, personal? To him?”

“Did something happen again? Like Scratch?”

“Nothing that bad. Well…” He exhaled a huff and there was no way he was tired already, Tio glancing sideways at him, turning the next corner and splitting apart for a moment to allow a man with a wheeled trolley to pass between them. “But nothing happened to him, nothing physical anyway.”

“Hm, okay, be cryptic, see if I care.”

“I want to tell you. But… Not my news to tell.”

“You could be vague, I’m hardly going to speak to him about it.” He knew it wouldn’t take much, just a little gentle poking and prodding and all would be revealed, he just wanted to know, he couldn’t exactly try to help if he didn’t know what was going on. But then he considered that Mizuki had helped Kin without knowing his problems, sure that throwing money at this almost certainly wouldn’t fix things as easily as it had for their coworker.

“No, that’s true. Er,” Tio could see the exact moment he gave up on the ruse of keeping this secret, turning to him and absently playing with the bottle in his hand, adjusting his grip too much, holding the lid before switching to the side and back again. “Somebody died. Somebody he knew.”

A list of things Tio had expected; maybe he was really sick, perhaps he was in big trouble this time and people were out for blood, maybe he’d gotten hurt badly. But that hadn’t been on the list, which had been a lot more extensive than his mind could concoct in that moment, remark coming out a little emotionless with surprise.

“Oh. Like a friend?”

“No. I-“ That moment of hesitation again, feeling bizarrely pleased that to Tio at least, the idea of Sly having friends wasn’t so bizarre, making a noise of exasperation before deciding that fuck it, trusting each other was something that friends did. “Okay, I’ll tell you but you can’t tell anyone, especially not him, he’d kill me if he knew I’d told you.”

“Pinky promise.” Mizuki raised his hand to mirror the action easily, not even laughing at the childishness of it, pinkie promises were, to him at least, legally binding, and he knew that even without the action, Tio would keep this to himself. There’d be little to gain by spilling anyway.

“He had a twin,” eyebrows raised in surprise first, then lowering as he realized what that meant and his lips parted, frowning down at the black and blue trainers that pounded the uneven pavements. “He died a couple weeks back, his lungs flooded or something. I’m not sure, it sounded horrible though.”

“Oh wow, that’s awful.”

“You might have noticed, but he’s not very good with emotions,” reluctant smiles then, Tio inclining his head with a puff of breathy laughter because he had noticed exactly that, it wasn’t exactly hard to miss. “So I asked him to try living with me at the worst possible time and he won’t even admit he’s mourning or whatever, he’s just… I dunno, I don’t like it.”

He took a moment to consider this all, the deluge of information washing over him, feeling intrinsically bad for Sly despite the fact that he still wasn’t his favorite person, figuring at least that he deserved basic human empathy. To lose a brother, a twin, and in such a horrible, traumatizing sounding way, wondering how he could even hope to help with this, he was no grief counsellor, and when he momentarily considered losing his sister his throat closed up so he couldn’t speak words even if he’d had any. All he had to say was that he had nothing to say, considering Sly once again, as the hard, spiteful boy who’d taunted him in alleyways and then suddenly appeared in Mizuki’s apartment and been nothing short of civil with him. “Hm, I guess there’s not much you can do if he doesn’t want to be helped.”

“That’s the problem. He does want to be helped, I just don’t know how.” He looked so horribly conflicted that Tio didn’t know what to say, sucking in warm breath and wishing he hadn’t worn a hoodie, mind leaving the topic so fast he should have been ashamed at his selfishness. But then a wide grin he hadn’t expected, glinting against the shop window they padded past, long since shattered into pieces, “pick up the pace, we’re not gunna get anything done like this.”

A burst of acceleration, a quick tensing of muscles to leap forwards to an actual run, and Tio was left behind again, staring at his back and wondering why things always ended like this.

 

* * *

 

There’s a doctor leaving the room when they approach, clipboard tucked under his arm and lab coat impossibly white even while everything else seems chipped and subdued with age, Mizuki jogging to catch up to him.

“Hey, how’s he doing?”

They speak in clear enough voices but Tio’s mind is elsewhere, with a woman a couple of floors above, or more truthfully, with her son, thinking about freckles and the lack thereof, figuring they must be from his father. Wondering if he resents them.

“Tio?”

“Hm?” He’s snatched back from the brink of a hole he’s been trying not to tumble into, toes stopping right before the gaping chasm his wandering thoughts had brought him dangerously close to, Mizuki looking concerned in a way he doesn’t like. The hand on his bicep is a little too firm, as if knowing he needed to be grounded suddenly like this, not releasing even as he smiles weakly and explains his behavior away as tiredness.

“Sure you’re okay?” He just nods, he doesn’t feel much like talking and he can smell the faint traces of death floating down from above where the hopeless cases live, feels lightheaded suddenly as Mizuki just narrows his eyes and retreats out of his space, oxygen flooding back in and making him pale. “Alright, maybe we overdid the run a bit.”

But that’s not what’s wrong and they both know it, the issue is that neither of them know what is.

“He should wake up soon, apparently, they’ve already taken away the artificial oxygen, now he just needs a week or so and they said he might be conscious,” this is good news, it definitely is, but something in the lack of detail leaves them both aware that things are rarely this simple, managing a smile nonetheless as they swing the door open and step inside.

 

Despite good news there’s a sense of deep, foreboding doom that settles thick into Tio’s spine as he sinks into the seat, cushioning his body and swallowing him down at the same time so he feels like he’ll never be able to stand again. It’s a familiar, yet foreign feeling, this heavy melancholy that’s seeping into his bones, he recognizes it all too well, how easy it seems to allow it to take over him, to shut his eyes and let Mizuki’s voice wash over and the beep of the monitor drown out everything else.

But he’s there to see Koujaku even as he can’t hear them, so he tries to push the feeling off even though it’s hit him so hard and wormed so deep it’s like struggling up from under miles of heavy water, barely breaking through even as they’re leaving and he hasn’t spoken a word.

His lips are dry and the idea of parting them to speak suddenly seems like it would take an impossible amount of effort, finally managing to split them and the sensation of skin peeling apart is so grotesque he slams them shut again and lets Mizuki fill the silence with casual remarks that need no response.

They reach the bar almost too soon and he’s fixed with a gaze that says Mizuki knows something neither of them are willing to admit yet, expression changing from worried to something softer as he tells him he’s going to check on Sly and to sit down.

He looks like he’s going to pass out apparently and he realizes only when he sits down just how light headed he feels, hearing Mizuki leave the bar and then little else, exhaling deep and feeling his chest concave and collapse in on itself.

 

* * *

 

He’d done the usual tactic to get his attention, nudging playfully at his shin with the side of his sneaker, jostling the limb, normally a gesture that would earn a smile and a halfhearted protest to get off, but that today he didn’t feel very inclined to respond.

“Everyone seems miserable today, something happen?”

He just shrugged, he didn’t know who Kin meant by everyone, he couldn’t quite explain the atmosphere of heavy melancholy that had settled across the bar and its occupants since they’d returned from the hospital. But he needed to say something because Kin’s body was still blocking out the light where he towered over him, head tilted to the side and gaze intense if not curious, “Koujaku might wake up soon.”

“That’s great!” His enthusiasm isn’t faked and Tio only wishes he’d felt the same flood of earnest happiness when he’d heard the news, felt it more firmly than ever that he was a bad person for only seeing the negativity in this.

He usually wouldn’t be the type to make it obvious what a hole he was in, but this was Kin and he was somewhat of an exception, just looking up to meet his eye, head flopping to lean limply against the back of the padded booth. “You’re not that naive.”

“No, and you’re not normally this anxious. Something else is wrong, I can tell,” he sighed down the urge to ask how exactly he could claim to know that, just shifting over in the seat so Kin could join him, thighs almost pressing together on a bench that would allow perfect personal space.

They sit in silence for a while, Tio very aware how close they’re cutting it, that there won’t be much time to set up before they officially open, almost debating telling Mizuki to just not open for one night, customers wouldn’t mind, they might understand. But that was selfish and he didn’t want to be, heaving another sigh, exasperation mixed with a nasty hollowness in his chest.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I can’t anyway. I just feel crappy, there’s no reason for it.”

“Hm,” Kin’s voice is both considering and considerate and Tio is infinitely thankful that he hasn’t gotten offended at his lack of willingness to share, just nodding in understanding the way he always did and toning down his prior concern to become gentle empathy. “I get that, happens to the best of us. Anything I can do to help?”

“No. But thanks for offering.” He was the kind of person, Tio thought, that his mother would meet and immediately like, whom she would continue smiling about after he said goodbye, who would make her turn to Tio and remark in that motherly tone, ‘he seems like a sweet boy.’ Tio would be able to do nothing but agree and he smiled at the thought of it, remembered faintly running into his mother on the street while with Yuu, recalled her raised eyebrows and good natured smile that silently said he was a bit of a handful.

“Sure, that’s what friends do. Come on, let’s get set up while we wait for Mizuki, might take your mind off it.”

His growing feeling that this sudden low of mood would pass was wiped away in an instant, hand hesitating in Kin’s grip a fraction too long as he pulled him up off the couch to get to productivity instead of moping.

“Yes,” he said, but his voice was a little too hollow. “I suppose it is.”

 

* * *

 

When he gets back from the hospital, Sly is curled in the middle of the living room floor, arm tucked neatly against his chest and cigarette smoking in the ashtray almost hidden between his feet. It’s a defensive pose, one that suggests he’s trying to stay hidden away even though he’d been alone until seconds ago, assuming, of course, he hadn’t heard the bartender heading up the stairs.

There seems to be nothing abnormal about it considering how he’s been recently, and Mizuki barely glances over, calling out softly that he’s home and receiving a low mumble that could have been a welcome but could have been almost anything else too.

He’s pulling off his jacket when he hears him unfold, gentle sound of his bare feet shuffling on the thick carpet and faltering for a second, turning with confusion in his brow and spying what he’s been hiding. He pauses then, considering that while he’s kinda hiding it, he’s also sat in full view of him, right in front of the door as if he wanted to be the first thing Mizuki saw when he came through the door. That alone is what encourages him to speak, contemplating his words and figuring that there’s little he could say which Sly wouldn’t have some kind of objection to, crossing the room silently to kneel in front of him.

“Sly,” his voice was soft but he could hear unintentional disappointment in it and the addressed curled into himself further where he’d reclaimed his spot on the floor, staring stubbornly off at the wall behind him as he allowed the bartender to take his arm and tut lowly at the marks slashed across it, thumb rubbing at his red streaked wrist. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head and for the briefest, most naive second Mizuki’s had in a while, he thinks it’s an actual response to his question, thinks that perhaps Sly will open up and explain why he felt the need to do this to himself, but then he continues and he honestly didn’t know what he’d expected. “I just need some bandages. I’m fine.”

“You don’t just need bandages, you need a hug.”

“What the fuck is that gunna do?”

“Might help you feel better.” A long shot, but an attempt, nonetheless.

“Doubt it. Just get me the first aid kit,” he pauses for a moment, smoking the last of his cigarette and extinguishing it neatly, averting his gaze as he says something that is almost a compromise. “I’ll hug your damn cat if it makes you feel better.”

“That’ll do, I guess,” he sighs, pausing before he gets up to offer the only comfort he can, tucking the long strands of hair that are obscuring his face behind his ears, fingers lingering on his cheeks where the skin feels chilled and clammy. It’s instinct when he reaches forward to kiss his forehead, and as he stands to fetch the first aid kit, they’re both tactful enough to pretend they don’t see Sly’s eyes flood with water that rapidly spills down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character Designs, updates, ficart and other things of interest- [here](http://minky-way.tumblr.com/tagged/intravenous-series)


	3. Bargaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist @ [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/minky-way/04-Contaminated)

It wasn’t often he called, to be honest it wasn’t often anybody called him, what was the point when messaging was so much easier and less effort? But he of course picked up after only a couple of rings anyway, not bothering to grab his earpiece and letting the slightly tinny sound of his best friend fill his quiet apartment, book lying open in his lap.

“Hey, you free today?”

“Yeah, got off work a couple hours ago, I thought you had a shift tonight?” He settled himself down, feeling a cool breeze from the open window filter over his face and a beam of sunlight warming his bare toes, wriggling them and considering it would be nice to make plans. It was starting to get warm already, summer determined to arrive early and a nice, sleepy sort of weather covering the island that made him want to laze around with a beer and do remarkably little else.

“Nah, got it off today, wanna come over?”

“Sure, or we could chill here? I’ve got beers.”

“Well, if you’re offering,” he had been, of course he had and he said as much, but Kin dumped the plate he was carrying to the sink anyway, no point tidying up if nobody was going to see the state of the place. “I’ll be over in like an hour, just got a couple things to do first.”

“Alright, see you in a bit, loser.”

“Bye, nerd.”

 

He’d been very evasive with just why he hadn’t been at work, but Tio put it down as not really being his business, letting him lie to his face about some remodelling when he’d passed the restaurant on the back from work and it had been as in business as it always was.

Maybe he’d just wanted a day off, maybe he was as exhausted as he looked under strobe lights, maybe he wanted to make the most of the nice weather with beers and the company of his friend. Tio didn’t know, and for a couple more nights he didn’t make it his business to know, because he’d stuck his nose in where it wasn’t welcome in the past and it had never ended well for either party.

 

“You’re not at work again.”

“No, I’m not.” He looked uncomfortable, leaning over the vegetables he’d been examining, picking out another couple of potatoes and moving on to examine the leeks, not making eye contact and staring intently at cabbage as if they both didn’t know he hated it. He obviously hadn’t intended for anybody to see him, it was just unlucky for him that Yuu had led Tio on a wild goose chase for an important note he’d lost then discovered had been in his pocket all along, ending up a fair walk from home near a small grocery store he’d never been in before. Well, that wasn’t the issue, if Tio hadn’t been ridiculously thirsty after running all over the island for a good hour and hadn’t decided to go to the store for a drink, there wouldn’t be a problem. But thirsty he had been, and he wasn’t exactly going to ignore his best friend if he chanced upon him in an unexpected setting, having only realised his reluctance to be seen after he gained his attention with a meaningless insult.

“How come?”

“I told you, they’re remodelling,” he straightened up then, glancing at the list in his hand and turning into the next aisle, Tio following doggedly, watching him load his basket with cheap energy drinks and instant noodle cups and little else of actual nutrition.

“I walked past earlier, they’re not remodelling, Kin. What happened? Did you get fired?”

“No, why would I get fired?” He looked offended for approximately two seconds, then a large sigh and the incline of his head that says he’s given in, putting back the random item he’d pretended to peruse. “I just... Got suspended, that’s it.”

“Again? What are you meant to have done now?” His indignation is so loud that if there’d been anybody else in the poorly lit store, they’d undoubtedly be staring, but as it is the cashier doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid, seemingly napping behind a large newspaper.

“Well my managers got a list, of my ‘indiscretions’, I think that’s what she called it. So I spilled soup on that guy in February, then in April I dropped a load of plates and broke them, apparently that was strike two of three, not that she bothered to tell me. Then I was like five minutes late the other week and she just told me to get out and not come back until I’m a competent employee and not a useless mess.”

“She used those words?” Kin nodded, raising his eyebrows as if he only found it mildly upsetting to have his character destroyed like that when Tio could see that uncertainty in his posture again, the self-consciousness that perhaps she was right. “ _Bitch_. So why were you late?”

“The hospital called me, said it was an emergency, mum had a fit or something, they don’t really know what. So I ran there to see what was going on, then ran to work and still got suspended. Whatever, it’s their loss.”

“But that means you lost your wage, how long til you’re allowed back?”

“Two weeks. I’m fine, I’ve still got that bonus Mizuki gave me. I had a feeling something like this might happen so I didn’t spend much of it.” He seemed to be done with his shopping then, pausing to regard a tall display of gum, hiding a grin as Tio went around the other way and disappeared behind the tall rack, only the tiniest bit of curly hair visible.

“So you’re managing?”

“Yeah, I’m good _, mum._ Quit worrying.”

"How long is that food meant to last you?” Kin’s eyes narrowed and they both knew what the others game was, standing opposite each other, in front of the till and both refusing to budge, waiting to see whose pride would dim first.

“A week.”

“A week?! A cup ramen a day and some vegetables? You’re _actually_ a useless mess if you think that’s okay, how the hell do you plan to live on that?” He looked like he was about to object but Tio had disappeared back into the aisles and all Kin could do was blink along with the cashier, finally roused from his slumber and seemingly not enjoying the ruckus they were causing.

Even as his items were scanned with a significant lack of pep, he could hear Tio muttering darkly, actively scooting away as he was finally paid up and he emerged at the till with a basket of his own. He put it down with more than necessary force and he looked so damned irritated that the elderly man scanning them just kept his head down, proffering bags over and watching them leave with a raised eyebrow and a mutter about youngsters and lack of respect.

 

They walked in silence for quite a while, towards both of their apartments, though Kin was leading the way, assuming if Tio planned on going elsewhere he’d be perfectly capable of doing so. Tio was quietly fuming, face still tense with irritation Kin wasn’t entirely sure how he’d caused, speaking up in a calm tone, “what was that?”

“That was me making sure you don’t starve, here,” the bag was thrust into his chest so abruptly he almost squawked, managing to take it before its contents fell to the ground and rendered this exercise in generosity utterly useless. “Go home and cook something decent. And get an early night! You look exhausted.”

He glances down at the bag in his arms, he can see eggs, bread, what looks like a bag of rice, meat of some kind, maybe even fish tucked into the bottom, “you’re not going to let me refuse this, are you?”

“Absolutely not!”

They’d stopped in the street so Kin could adjust his hold on the bags, but with the end of Tio’s almost angry speech he’d frozen in place, blinking at him with the dumbest expression he’d probably ever worn. Tio was _worried_ about him, and he often had been before but now he was actually proactively concerned about him, was spending his own money making sure he ate right, was complaining about his sleep schedule, lecturing him like a parent.

All he could think was that it was really fucking cute, biting his lip to hide a smile as they continued their lazy routes home.

“You know, nobody’s ever cared enough to passive-aggressively buy me groceries before.”

“Is that so?” His voice was a little hard but Kin could identify embarrassment easily, and he was at the perfect height to see the redness of his ears, nudging into his side and reassured as he lightly jostled him back.

“Mm-hm.”

“Yeah, well, somebody’s got to look after you. Might as well be me.”

 

* * *

 

After just under a week staying at his place, alternating between hiding in bed and being deeply objectionable, Sly leaves early one morning, stating he’s going to see his Granny, and he doesn’t come back. Mizuki doesn’t really worry, with his Granny might be just where he needs to be, and he at least knows he’ll be safe and well fed there, sending him a picture just once of Amaya pawing at the door accompanied with the caption ‘she misses you.’

So when he gets in from another visit to Beni-Shigure, he’s surprised to find Sly on the balcony, curled up across two of his wooden chairs, cushions stolen from the couch under both his feet and his ass, there’s a cigarette in his hand and an empty mug with a brown stained rim on the table. His arms are bare except the bandages stretched up his left forearm, neatly tucked into place and still pristinely, reassuringly white, arm resting on weather-worn wood, afternoon sunlight beaming down on him and warming Mizuki the second he steps outside, “hey, what you doing?”

“It’s warm out.”

That wasn’t exactly an answer, but he let it slide, conceding that he was right and inclining his head into the breeze, noting then the budding of the ever neglected plant huddled in the corner of his balcony, a moving in gift he should have cared for better. Luckily though it was hardy as its company, and managed, magically, to bloom every late spring without the help of water, shears or anything else it may need.

“Want a beer? Or some company?”

“Sure,” an answer to both and he’s even graced with a look that might be considered warm, tepid at least, relaxing back into the seat and closing his eyes, listening with a distinct lack of paranoia to the soft noises of the street beyond, the fridge shutting in the kitchen, footsteps approaching.

Condensation trickles down the bottle he’s handed and he gives up his footrest only reluctantly, bartender occupying the space he’d been in easily and far more fully than he ever could, taking a cigarette from the pack to join him.

It’s quiet for a good ten minutes, Amaya comes slinking out, regarding the balcony as if she’s never been there before, hissing at the potted plant as if it’s that which is the enemy, jumping into Sly’s lap and not shifting even as a few droplets of ice cold linger on his hand as he strokes her flank. She’s purring and that, along with the sound of birds cawing on their journey to the ocean, and the sound of people passing by down below is the perfect soundtrack to the afternoon.

 

Sly is comfortable, rather too comfortable for Mizuki’s liking, complaining weakly the minute a pair of feet is unceremoniously, yet somehow considerately, dumped in his lap, wriggling around to get comfortable as if they’ll be staying.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting my feet up, do you mind?” The arrogance in his voice is entirely for show and his expression is too gently amused for either of them to believe the question is meant to be barbed. He likes this side of Sly, the bartender decides, the part that is cheeky, childish, that is a little cocky without being genuinely irritating.

“Not as much as I should.” Sly doesn’t respond, he doesn’t need to when the answer was so damned obvious, leaning back into his seat, head resting against the high back and pale expanse of his neck exposed to the yellow air. Silence prevails again, though today nobody is trying to battle against it, Amaya perfectly happy to lazily doze in their pool of sunshine, Mizuki sipping his beer and glad of more in the fridge a few quick steps away.

Smoke sways and fades into the air and when Sly offers over another Mizuki refuses, hands falling into his lap, eyes finding a pair of feet he can’t claim to have ever had much interest in before but which he deems are remarkably acceptable. They’re feet that have been used, soles rough and sturdy from years of being tremendously active in ways most people wouldn’t even dream of, there’s a couple of moles on them, one right at the juncture between his big and first toe, and a smattering across the left ankle. They’re unnervingly endearing.

They’re okay, for feet, and Sly makes a curious humming noise when he cautiously slides his hand from ankle to arch, thumb absently rubbing circles into the tender flesh where his foot dips underneath, doing something that could be labelled a massage if Mizuki actually knew what he was doing.

But Sly lets him continue and even wriggles his toes in disapproval when he pauses to drain his beer, his pinkie toe is so small it’s almost like a pea and for feet, Mizuki decides he’s remarkably fond of these ones.

“Are you seriously rubbing my feet right now?”

“Just one of them, I’d struggle doing both at once,” Sly’s eyes are still shut, head tilted back and he must assume Mizuki is looking elsewhere because he smiles and it’s genuine and soft and everything he normally keeps hidden, cracking one yellow orb to regard him and expression somehow only getting bolder.

“Keep going then, asshole, you can’t only do one.” Mizuki just smiles back, watching pale fingers on slowly rising and falling ginger fur, feels the sun on his face and feels like he could stay exactly where he is right now, forever.

 

Cut to three hours later and Mizuki is ducking to avoid a plate because he said something wrong and Sly didn’t appreciate it.

Small steps, he tells himself as his bedroom door slams with him on the wrong side of it. Small steps.

 

* * *

 

Things always seem to run either too slowly, or too fast for Mizuki, swearing in his mind he’d been waking up shivering only days ago and waking utterly disoriented at 3am to discover he’s sweating and Sly is slumbering next to him above the sheets and utterly naked. His skin is covered in the faintest sheen of sweat, almost sticky in texture and utterly unpleasant as he splays out across the bed as if trying to keep his trunk as cool as possible by ensuring his limbs are nowhere near.

He would have sworn a couple of weeks ago at most he’d pulled up the blinds at the end of the hallway to blinding snow, not sunshine that fills the apartment with soft yellow light instead of the white he’s gotten used to over the cold months of winter.

But time is never very linear for him and suddenly they are five months into the year and both his own and Sly’s birthdays have passed without ceremony in a rush of more important things to deal with. Suddenly, almost shockingly so, it is May and summer is approaching and when he goes to see Koujaku the doctors tell him it looks increasingly hopeful though he could swear he was rescued only a week or so ago.

He tries to explain this to Sly one night, when he’s being remarkably reasonable and has even allowed Mizuki to choose the movie they watch, provided, of course, it has sex, blood and no romance whatsoever. He tears his eyes away from the strategically chosen flick, raises a single thin eyebrow and remarks with crushing obviousness that he almost never knows what year it is, let alone notices the passing of seasons.

Except, he concedes quietly, winters haven’t been as cold since you gave me that old sleeping bag.

It’s the closest to gratitude Mizuki will get, and he reasons that the seasons will go on changing whether either of them notice or not. It is reassuring, he thinks, that things continue moving even when he feels stationary, poking at Sly with his foot until he is all snapping in false anger and fighting him off even as he knows it will turn into kisses soon enough.

So things go by nicely and that Sly has been there for more than his agreed week isn’t mentioned for fear of Mizuki losing his last two undamaged mugs.

 

* * *

 

Summer is approaching with full force, slamming into him as a humid, sticky breeze as he opens his apartment door and the coolness of several ever-blaring fans is utterly drowned out by the blazing sun. Almost June he supposes, and it really is far too late in the year to wear a hoodie, dumping it on the couch and pushing earbuds in further, tucking his keys and wallet into his knee-length jeans and knowing Mizuki will mock him for them like he does every year.

Out into the streets and there are kids screaming as they run down the burning tarmac, women looking hot and bothered and some already growing impressively brown as they spend their whole lives outdoors. The ice-cream parlour, really the only seasonal business on the island, has a queue out the door and when he glances in the window he sees staff decked out in penguin aprons and looking slightly harassed.

He’s glad it will have gotten a little cooler by the time he’s left Kin’s to go to the bar for the night shift, it will still be clammy and he doesn’t doubt that, but he is eternally grateful for the summer two years ago when Mizuki shelled out for air-con after a customer fainted from heat stroke in the middle of her evening. In a weird way that makes him grateful to her for passing out, which is an unusual thought the heat of the day rapidly pushes out of his mind, wiping sweat off his forehead and slowing his pace a little, Kin can wait, it’s too hot to do anything but lazily meander his way through town and towards his apartment building.

 

But the effect of the pleasant summer air faded as he got closer and he could sense that something was wrong, hesitating for a moment near a too-familiar trash chute to regard the person Kin was clearly speaking to, stood in the hallway outside his apartment. He recognised him as a member of the Yakuza, but one of the nicer ones, seeing it more as a neighbourhood watch kind of thing than anything else, knowing there was nothing to worry about until Kin shifted and he could see him.

He looked distressed, or panicked might be a more appropriate word, adjusting his weight from foot to foot and hair messy, running a hand down his face and just nodding distantly as Reiko spoke to him, voice low and soothing even from a distance. But he kept on speaking and Kin snapped at him suddenly, looking guilty the second he registered the angry pose of his body and the way his hands had raised aggressively, biting at his lip and just waving off the hand on his arm, sending him away after one last exchange of words.

But Tio had watched in silence for long enough and he didn’t know quite what was happening beyond that something bad must have happened, Kin’s noise of frustration and the sudden sight of wooden shards in the hallway steeling his resolve to find out what was wrong. He’d caught his breath by now but his chest still felt a little tight as he wandered down the hallway towards him, other not noticing even as his keys finally made their escape from his too-small pocket and clattered to the ground.

 

He still hasn’t noticed him by the time he’s able to reach out and poke at his elbow, large form turning to regard him with initial annoyance that rapidly falters into recognition then alarm as he stares at his coil incredulously and it’s the first time Tio’s realised what an old, clunky model it is.

“Shit, as if it’s two already. _Fuck_.”

But the recipient of these alarmed words was too much distracted staring in abject horror at what remained of his front door, wood hanging off one hinge and a large part of it completely shredded into the hallway and the room beyond. The apartment looked as it always did behind him but there had to be something wrong for his door to be so beaten down, scanning him immediately for signs that suggested there may have been some kind of fight, Kin waving off his concerned gaze.

“Oh don’t worry, _I’m_ fine, bastard was already gone by the time I got home.”

“What happened?” He ignored the bitterness in his voice, the clear unspoken statement that he wished he’d been home to give the intruder a piece of his mind, anger infecting his tone as his jaw set hard.

“I went out last night with a few of the guys, figured I may as well, I got that pay rise after all and I had some money left over this week. Thought it might be nice to have some fun, a few drinks. I got pretty drunk so I crashed at Michi’s place, only got back about an hour ago.” He was explaining plainly enough but he was speaking like he’d been foolish to dare leave his apartment for even one night of fun, clearly regretting his decision already and blaming himself for whatever had occurred. “I mean, you can see my door, so I checked nobody was here first, then started to see what was missing.”

He’d moved as he spoke, stepping neatly around his broken down door and into the apartment beyond, Tio unable to see anything wrong, TV still neatly on its stand and nothing destroyed or moved at all, frowning as he turned to see Kin with a long wire in his hand. “They stole my laptop. Nothing else, just that. They didn’t even take the damn charger. Well they’ll be lucky trying to sell that, the battery only holds charge for twenty minutes and it’s such an old model they’ll have a great time finding a charger for it.”

He threw the lead away from himself and for all his brave words Tio could see how much he was freaking out, his hair was a mess and his lips were downturned in a way he didn’t like, sighing exasperatedly and turning angry at the last second, hands still buried in his hair but a foot coming to kick at his couch so hard it slid across the fake wood flooring with a screech.

“Hey, hey, calm down, we can fix this.”

“How? How exactly can this,” here he gestured at his door, at the flakes of cheap material that spread into his apartment, at the lock that had been knocked off the wall, “be fixed? How am I supposed to do anything with no door? How am I even meant to get a new door? We’ve got work in like three hours, what, _the fuck,_ can we fix in three hours?”

Tio just stares at him during this rant, letting him get it all out and aware it’s not really him he’s angry at, nodding along with him sympathetically and supposing if this had happened to him, that he’d have reacted much the same. He doesn’t bother to answer any of his questions though, just unlocks his coil and speaks even as he does, “I’m texting Mizuki to say you can’t come to work.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course, I’m your boss too, remember?” Kin just shrugged and went back to staring in annoyance at where his laptop had once lay, Tio writing a quick message and sending it off, hiding the truth at first again but knowing this isn’t something shameful he needs to hide, telling him when he asks for details.

_‘Can Kin get a paid absence tonight? Something happened and he can’t work. Also I might be late. Sorry.’_ Mizuki replies almost instantly and he’s grateful for that, he gets the feeling Kin wouldn’t do well with having to wait for a response, sinking onto his couch and burying his head in his hands, the very picture of overwhelmed.

**‘It’s fine, I can get someone to cover him. Is he hurt?’**

_‘No, he’s fine, something else happened.’_

**‘Something to do with the money problem?’**

_‘Not really, he got broken into.’_

**‘Ah shit, that sucks, let me know if he needs anything, and don’t worry about being late.’**

_‘Will do, thanks.’_

 

“He says it’s fine, and,” he pauses then, scrolling through his contacts until he finds the name he’s looking for, an old member of Dry Juice and one of the originals, really hoping he’ll be free. “I know a handyman, of sorts, who should be able to get you a new door, or at least do a quick fix on this one until you can get something proper sorted out. I’ll give him a quick call, see what he can do, alright?”

He ducks out into the hallway to make the call, Daisuke picks up after a few rings with a friendly greeting and the remark that it’s been a while, making Tio’s gut coil with guilt as he admits that it isn’t a social call. But truthful to his forgiving nature, the other just hums apologetically when he explains the situation, says he broke his leg falling off a ladder and as Tio’s heart sinks, calls out to his female companion, and just like that, the problem is solved.

 

“Daisuke’s got a broken leg so he can’t come, but his girlfriend Akane can do it, she’ll be over in about half an hour to check it out, then she knows some… I dunno, _place,_ where she can get a door and a new lock for you.” Where she’d be finding a door he had no idea, especially not at such late notice, but he didn’t question her methods and knew very well that with the right connections, you could get your hands on almost anything the island had to offer.

Having done all he can to help, which he feels is pitifully little, he begins collecting the fragments of cheap wood that have scattered across Kin’s apartment floor, picking them up carefully to avoid splinters and ditching them into a trash can that for once holds actual food waste rather than just empty cans and noodle packaging.

Kin watched silently for a minute, presumably gathering himself, standing and in one smooth, somewhat surprising movement, yanks the door off its remaining hinge, neatly leaning it against the wall. He stares at it for a good five minutes, expression so worryingly blank that Tio puts a hand on his arm and quietly says his name, breaking him out of whatever thoughts had trapped him.

"We can fix this, okay? I'm gunna help you fix this." That earns him a smile and a ruffle of his hair he doesn't  _really_ appreciate but knows at least means Kin is grateful, withering a little under his insanely fond smile.

“What did I do to deserve you, huh? You’re a total lifesaver.”

“It’s fine, and… I know this won’t help, but try to relax, okay? At least they only took one thing.”

“I know, I know, but it has all my stuff on it, my music. My photos. _Shit, my photos_.” Any calm he might have gathered rapidly seeps away and sheer panic overwhelms him again, pacing through the tiny space as if that will bring the answers he needs. “Fuck, I can’t afford a new laptop! I can’t even afford a shitty ancient one again. God, everything goes wrong at once and I’m still suspended from the stupid fucking restaurant!”

He’s working himself up again and Tio has the feeling his battered couch might not take another kick, leaving the mess on the floor and putting hands on his shoulders instead, forcing him to meet his gaze and snap out of himself. “Hey, hey, relax, alright, freaking out isn’t going to help. Come on, sit down, things’ll work themselves out.”

He listens to him for once, and he has the feeling the hand rubbing firm circles into his shoulder helps a lot, his friend sinking back into worn material and shutting his eyes, exhaling and rubbing a hand down his face. “Sorry, you’re right, I’ll be fine.”

 

Akane arrives halfway through their mugs of instant coffee with a cheery grin and a soft bag that clanks when she sets its down, she’s all well-meaning comments and remarks of what a shitty situation it is, and when she says she’s sorry it happened, they both believe her. She does a few measurements, gets distracted as Tio notices a ring on her left hand and reflects again on how out of touch with old friends he is, smiles reassuringly and claps Kin on the back so hard he almost stumbles, then darts off to retrieve a door from her mystery supplier.

She refuses help carrying the door, lugging it into the apartment as if it doesn’t look heavy, and while she isn’t the smallest woman they’ve ever seen, she must have hidden muscle mass to manage so well. She’s entertaining, keeping up a running commentary as she works, stripping plastic off the sturdy door she’s gotten, remarks that if somebody tries to put their foot through this one, they’ll be off to hospital either with the door still attached, or with several shattered bones. Funny too, she makes an alarmingly dirty joke when one screw just isn’t going into the hole, asking for lube with a waggle of her eyebrows that has Kin choking on his coffee with laughter and Tio’s lip twitching as she only continues to remark with a secretive wink that they’ve probably used it all.

Her jibes are well meaning though and Tio can practically see Kin unwind as her chatter fills the room, though that could be just due to the fact that now he's getting a new door and can leave his apartment again. Besides, Tio thinks but doesn't voice, now he's been broken into one it's very unlikely to happen again.

She’s an efficient worker, demanding one of them be her official assistant and hand over tools as she asks, describing them while Tio roots through the bag looking for items he’s never heard of. The door is securely attached by the time Tio has to leave for work and she tentatively shuts it, bolt sliding into place and crossing her fingers as Kin unlocks it from outside, remarking quietly that if the lock doesn’t work she’ll have to take it off its hinges and the problem won’t remotely be solved.

But it unlocks and Kin re-enters his apartment looking relieved, mentions payment as she packs away her tools and balks as she waves him off, turning to Tio and saying the only payment she’ll accept is a catch up with her and Daisuke at his expense. He agrees and it’s only when they’ve both left that he asks how much she really wants, conceding with a smile that she hadn’t wanted to take money off somebody who just got robbed and clearly isn’t too well off. Not to mention that Tio had specified for her to get the sturdiest door she could, price not a factor, transferring the money she’d asked for, certainly less than it should be but still more than Kin would be happy about.

They part with a promise to catch up and a date a couple of weeks later, and she’s whistling as she carries damaged MDF through the streets to give it to a friend of hers who apparently has some use for it.

The only issue now is how Kin is meant to get another computer, and a distant sense of discomfort in the back of Tio’s head at how bothered he’d been to realise he’d lost his photographs, thinking there’s nothing he can do about that even as he feels awful about the whole situation.

He's done all he can to help, he supposes, and really, the sincere thank you Kin had given him shows how much his efforts were appreciated.

 

* * *

Sly is softer after he returns from his Granny’s, there’s that familiar smell of baking on his clothing, settled deep into his skin, and the smell of sugar seems to have encouraged him to act sweeter too. His depression seems to have lifted a little, and other than occasional pained looks, his demeanour is mainly the same as always, if not tamped down somewhat, snapping remarks rendered pretty much useless as he makes no move to follow through. He's even weirdly tactile, for him at least, complaining loudly about how annoying it is that Mizuki takes up the whole of the couch before flopping almost onto him and whinging the whole time as if he can hide his desire to be close with false irritation.

He’s taken to asking questions by poking or prodding at Mizuki with one body part or another til he answers, favourably his head, nudging at the bartenders shoulder or back repeatedly until he drops whatever he’s doing to answer or pay attention to him.

He also begins going to bed when the bartender does and it’s almost like they have a routine, they even brush their teeth together which is so domestic and cute that it’s all Mizuki can do to not smile and give himself away. So they get ready for bed together and change into pyjamas or whatever clothes Sly has stolen from him and deemed acceptable to sleep in, and slip into bed and it’s awkward every night but somehow Mizuki prefers it to his bed mate waiting til he’s asleep to join him.

He asks if he has work tomorrow and when, Mizuki answers and shares some details, asks for requests if he’s going grocery shopping and makes a note on his coil, then Sly hums in acknowledgment, lights a cigarette as Mizuki settles down and returns his good night.

It’s a little weird, but it’s fine, and it shows Sly’s willingness to at least try and make this a normal thing, to admit this isn’t just a friend crashing over, to allow the suggestion that perhaps this is morphing into an actual relationship.

 

Sly wakes during the night a lot too, Mizuki isn’t sure if it’s because he isn’t used to having a routine or an actual bed, or if it’s just a quirk of his, a hint of insomnia he doesn’t feel it worthy to mention in his waking hours. But often he rolls over and even in his mostly asleep state he registers that Sly isn’t there, or he can smell smoke, or there’s adjustment of the sheets and he rouses for long enough to see him sitting up or slipping out of the room.

He never bothers to follow or mention it, Sly is always back beside him when he wakes up, hissing at his alarm and snapping half-heartedly at the hand that bids him good morning by burying into his hair or, a particular favourite, bopping his nose. Mizuki is blessed with being a naturally deep sleeper, and it’s very rare he wakes when Sly does, often not even noticing he’s been elsewhere until he wakes and there’s more ash in the tray than the night before, or his trainers have moved across the room.

 

So, as usual, he hadn’t woken when the other had, nor had a noise or anything else unnatural woken him, when his eyes roused into lazy consciousness he couldn’t feel any cool drafts from where the covers may have shifted, he had, in all probability, woken up entirely coincidentally. He wasn’t much prepared to stay awake though, still pleasantly under the thick veil of deep sleep and rolling onto his side with the intention of nestling into his pillow and returning to blissful nothingness.

But a solid lump met his eyes and it wasn’t just a head, blinking blearily upwards to take in Sly’s form, just a dark mass against the dimness of his bedroom, able to make out that he was sitting up against the headboard with his knees tucked under his chin.

He wasn’t smoking as would make sense, or anything else, indeed he seemed to be sat there entirely still and unmoving, blinking regularly and eyes gazing into the dark distance blankly, no sign of tears or distress anywhere in his form.

He went to speak but his half asleep body decided to give his bed-mate a warning first, exhaling long and deep through his nose, voice thick and woozy even as he spoke slurring words of concern, “Sly? Whas wrong?”

“I dreamt I was drowning.”

He shifted then, forcing himself into wakefulness, rubbing at his eyes and blinking them wide open, forcing the faint light in and adjusting himself so he could see the other better, yawning thick and so deep his hearing seemed to cut out. “A nightmare?”

“No.” He could see him shake his head, blue hair waving around the jagged features he could make out, not moving closer or doing anything that implied he needed comfort, voice softer than he’d ever heard it before, speaking in the gentlest of whispers. " It was really peaceful."

“Do you think it’s because of-“

He didn’t let him finish, answering too fast and the first hint of discomfort seeping into his voice, Mizuki not sure if he regretted bringing it up yet, knowing it had clearly bothered him but also sure it needed to be spoken about. Burying things that hurt just made them worse, he’d learnt that with Yasu and he wouldn’t let Sly do it with his own brother. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“I- When he, I mean, how-“

He knew what he wanted to ask and finished the sentence for him, filling him in gently and tone so empty Mizuki wasn’t sure if he found relief in his answer, “He was in a coma. He probably had no idea.”

“Hm. Are you okay?”

“I think so.” Uncertainty now, but not so bad that Mizuki wouldn’t believe him, turning to see him and lips quirked up a little at the side, faintest blue light of early dawn seeping through the blinds, changing the subject. “I told him about you, the last time I saw him. Told him I’d made a friend, a couple.”

He thinks for a minute before the face of a similarly cocky teenager comes into his head and he realises who this other friend must be, wondering when Sly had last seen him and how they’d ended up becoming close at all. “Noiz?”

“Yeah. Not sure I can call you a friend though.”

That was just like Sly and he could hear the smile in his voice, the confusion of what they were fading away as he realised that perhaps it didn’t much matter what title they might affix to their strange relationship, moments like this making him value it for once. “What would you call me?”

“Don’t know yet.” His smile is a little rueful, but genuine and warm all the same, something secret to stay trapped within the boundary of this room and their memories, knowing he’s understood here more often than not and able to relax into the security net that affords him.

“Sounds about right. It’s early, try and get some more sleep,” he felt a little like his guardian again but he just nodded and slid back into bed as Mizuki sat up, realising only after waking that his bladder is a little full and as much as he’d like to stay there, close to Sly’s growing warmth, he’s not dumb enough to risk either waking up again later, or a wet bed.

By the time he got back Sly was sleeping soundly and the closest thing to drowning was the puddle of drool on the unoccupied side of his pillow.

 

* * *

 

The next afternoon wakes along with Sly who heads immediately for the balcony in nothing but a pair of somewhat old looking boxers, not even responding to Mizuki asking why the hell he is lying on the damn floor. He mumbles something about it being warm and wriggles a little, head pillowed on pale arms and the rest of him splayed out ungracefully across the rather rough slabs the balcony is paved with.

Mizuki really thinks the chairs were a more logical choice, only mentioning this as he realises Sly’s skin is rather pink, concerned he’s burning and not entirely surprised when all he does is flip over to lie on his back instead.

“Sly.”

“Mm?”

He doesn’t wait to say it as he would have just a little while ago, things seem easier now, like being in the eye of a storm where it’s weirdly peaceful, having battled against every imaginable element just to get there. “Stay a few more days.”

A long, sleepy but contented exhale accompanies his sentence, almost a yawn and not at all objectionable, ribs rising and straining under scarred skin as he doesn’t even open his eyes, keeping them shielded from the sun. “You said a week.”

“Yeah, so what? You’ve barely been _conscious_ most of this week,” true enough that he can’t deny it, and besides, between him going to his Granny’s and hiding in bed, he’s really only spent a few days actually living with Mizuki the way he intended when he initially asked. “Just stay a bit longer.”

“Couple of days. I’ll give you a couple of days.”

“Thank you.” He sounds grateful enough that Sly gives him that withering stare he’s so fond of, turning his face back into the sun and at least allowing Mizuki to fetch him a couch cushion for his head. He agreed so easily that the bartender wonders if maybe this will be how it works forever now, although that’s too solid a word to apply to them, if he’ll keep asking him to stay and if Sly will keep agreeing. He thinks that maybe there’ll even come a time when he won’t have to ask, where it’ll just be natural for him to be there, for them to be together. Because after these few days Mizuki can’t hide that together is all he wants them to be.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s the hurry, Kou?” He’d grabbed at his arm so abruptly he’d literally spun in place, geta skidding noisily across the asphalt under his feet, turning to face the wide, beaming grin of Yuu. “Where you running to?”

“I- Uh,” he couldn’t really speak somehow, ever since he’d gotten the call his body had been moving on it’s own, only aware his kimono was crumpled and unkempt when his assailant gave him a quick, uncertain glance.

“Somewhere important, I bet,” he’d stepped back, released his arm with a sudden seriousness to his tone and gaze warming. “Go. Tell him I said hey.”

 

He doesn’t tell him anything of the sort, he gets to the room, bathed in the warming glow of early summer sun and he prays. Prays that he’ll be okay, that he won’t be angry, that any damage he incurred was strictly physical and that his mind will be as intact as it ever was.

There’s doctors and nurses bustling round, anticipating the moment he’ll open his eyes, they’ve removed his IV already and Kou had hidden a sickly wince as a single trickle of blood ran down his already scarred knuckles.

Then something must have changed because there’s more noise and his view is temporarily blocked off, left stood in the corner by the door to try and work out what’s going on, if this is bad. A beam of light flits across his leaders face, checking the dilation of his pupils, they’re asking him questions and he supposes it’s good that he can understand to respond, but he realises he’s shaking only after all the checks are done and they’re left alone.

 

He’s awake but he still looks ill as he approaches cautiously, all the guilt and fear he’d been feeling bubbling up at once as exhausted crimson eyes flicker over to him and pallid skin shifts on rough hospital sheets. Kou can tell he’s trying to smile but it seems too much effort and his face relaxes back into a look that could be relief.

“Hey,” his voice is weak and when he swallows it visibly takes him a lot of work, accepting the glass of water he’s offered, carefully tilting his head up as Kou lets it trickle down his throat, nodding his thanks and awkwardly shouldering his way to sit up. “How is everyone?”

“Um, there’s a couple still in hospital but everyone else got discharged.”

He nods again, eyes scanning over the room and presumably understanding the basics of what had happened at least, relaxing back into the sheets now and strength returning as he manages a smile, too jokey for the context. “You look exhausted, been up late worrying about me, hm?”

His breath catches in his throat when he tries to respond saying how ridiculous that is and Koujaku looks guilty immediately, “whoa! Hey, it’s fine, I’m fine, see? Don’t get upset.”

But of course it’s too late by then and Kou feels like he can’t breathe over the lump aggressively forcing it’s way out of his chest, feeling hot shame wash over him as it’s Koujaku who has to do the comforting as he somehow manages to hold in his sobs long enough to speak.

“I’m _so_ sorry.” He’s been waiting to say that to him for so long now that the second it’s out, the high barriers he’d put in place to pretend strength for the team crumble and he’s burst into noisy, shuddering tears that make his whole body shake. Nothing feels real, not his leaders almost unnerved expression, not the fact that there’s a hand reaching for him, not that he’s even awake, and he hides his face in the sheets to conceal his tears as much as to feel Koujaku’s leg under his forehead, to know this is real and he’s finally okay.

His fingers are twisting the sheets and all he can hear is the beeping of the ever-insistent heart monitor and his own tears, slumped over and glad his hair hides as much of him as possible as a hand comes to rub at his back with comfort he doesn’t feel he deserves.

Koujaku doesn’t speak, not when a nurse comes in and tuts sympathetically, handing him tissues and easing him up with the light-hearted remark that if he’s not careful they’ll both be swimming. Even when she returns with a cup of tea for him and fresh water for Koujaku, the leader, _his_ leader, doesn’t say a word, just drinks more water and watches him dab his eyes dry and heave with leftover breaths of almost hysteria.

Then he speaks, and if he hadn’t cried all his tears already he would have been blubbering again, because they’re the words he’s been wanting to hear for weeks and the returning light in those crimson eyes is still one he trusts implicitly.

“This isn’t your fault, you did the right thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character Designs, updates, ficart and other things of interest- [here](http://minky-way.tumblr.com/tagged/intravenous-series)


	4. Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist @ [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/minky-way/04-Contaminated)
> 
> This chapter has some reference images to go along with it, so they'll be linked within the fic at relevant points, as well as at the end as usual!

He has no idea what to do as the Doctor’s return and say they’re very sorry, but Koujaku needs rest and an MRI scan and all sorts of other medical terms he doesn’t understand, that he has to leave. He obeys them, of course, and Koujaku smiles as he leaves and though he looks weak and tired, he’s still the same as ever and that is little comfort.

He finds a nice, quiet corner near a fire-exit door he assumes leads to the roof, and sinks onto the floor with his head in his hands, eyes dry but his breath still catching and hitching with what he supposes is delayed shock and panic.

He feels quite sick suddenly, and coughs into his fist as acidic bile rises into his mouth to burn his gums raw, reaching for his coil before remembering Hagima is on the ward downstairs and even though they are best friends, they’re not the ‘crying on each other’s shoulders’, type of friends.

So he calls the only other person he can think of.

 

‘Hey Kou! Was wondering when I’d hear from you again, how’re things?”

‘Koujaku’s awake.’ His tone had been friendly, chirpy almost, but his own response is too quick and sudden, guilt flooding him as he considers that he doesn’t want to bring anyone else down with his own issues.

‘That must be a relief. Are you okay?’

‘I’m not sure.’ He pauses to sniff and there’s a considering hum from the other end, closing his eyes to the sound of distant voices and bustling footsteps on the floor above. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I just picked up Tomomi for a walk.’

He hears a small bark, she recognizes her name it seems, and in spite of everything, he smiles, ‘the Shiba?’

‘Mm-hm, you want to help walk her? I can meet you at the hospital if you’re still there.’

‘Okay, yeah. Yeah.’

‘Alright dude, me and one very good dog are on the way. We’ll see you in ten.’

 

He isn’t really surprised Jin’s comforting technique involved a dog again, following the long path up to the shrine and filling the time with conversation of anything but Koujaku and the rest of the team, Tomomi let off her lead to bound around as she saw fit.

She’s a really beautiful dog, and when they pause at the top of the hill for a break, Kou plops down beside her to give her ears a good scratch, Jin joining him on the roughly tiled ground and expression a little tighter as they finally move onto the important stuff.

“How is he?”

“He seems okay. He said it wasn’t my fault.”

“Because it wasn’t,” Kou opens his mouth to object then closes it again, because he wants to know what Jin will say and besides, with a large dog attempting to climb into his lap it’s a little hard to focus on anything else. “You told him not to join Morphine, you told him it was a bad idea and he ignored you… He left you behind. I know he’s your friend, and your leader, but that doesn’t mean you’re meant to follow him blindly, I know I would leave Dry Juice if something weird was happening.”

“But maybe I could have helped, if I’d stayed.”

“You saw what everyone was like, there would have been nothing you could do, you _know_ that. If you hadn’t come to us for help it might have been weeks before anybody noticed you were all missing, it would have been worse. Think about it this way, you didn’t leave him. You were _forced_ to leave, he left you behind as if that was okay, but you’re not supposed to do that to your friends, if you were so reluctant he should have known something was wrong. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up apologizing to you.”

“You think?”

“Yep. You’re a good guy, Kou, you tried to help before things went wrong and it was you who saved them, who came to us for help and got them out. Nobody can deny that, alright?” He’s shifted to sit beside him, an arm around his shoulder in a comforting motion and the other rubbing at Tomomi’s fluffy head, squeezing him in his grip and staying tactically quiet as his eyes get a little wet.

“She’s a good dog.”

He chuckles wetly as she perks up at his words, tail wagging insistently against the hot ground and agreeing easily, “a very good dog.”

 

* * *

 

“What exactly are we doing?”

“Movie night.”

Sly nodded slowly, regarding the blanket, bowl of popcorn and crate of beer on the coffee table with suspiciously narrowed eyes, because properly watching a movie with snacks wasn’t something he’d done since he was very small, and even then it hadn’t been with somebody else like this. With company, yes. But not like this. “You’re not expecting me to cuddle are you?”

“Not if you don’t want, but most couples do.”

“We’re a couple now? That’s news to me.” His tone is pleasantly neutral and there’s the tiniest, warmest tilt of his lips that shows he’s not angry with the implication, not right now anyway.

Mizuki laughed at that, a breathy chuckle from where he lingered in the kitchen, washing up pots from lunch probably, “in the sense that there’s two of us, yes. But you’ve got a point, not a couple. I’ll let you pick the movie though.” Sly turned just in time to catch the sky remote Mizuki threw at him, expression of utter alarm at having a lump of hard plastic flung at him fading into a scowl fast.

“Good catch, use Netflix, there’s loads on there, just pick one, I’m gunna order pizza.”

Sly nodded absently, fingers shaking as they held the remote, knowing how to turn on the TV and how to change channels and not knowing much else, let alone how to access the Netflix account he’d seen Mizuki use a hundred times by now. He wasn’t embarrassed, Sly Blue didn’t get embarrassed, he was just irritated. Yeah, that was it. It wasn’t his fault this stupid fucking remote had like fifty buttons, none of which were labelled helpfully. Still, maybe if he just pressed each one he’d eventually get where he wanted to be.

His logic was flawed, yes, but it was still better than standing around like a twat doing literally nothing to make himself look competent.

When Mizuki returned ten minutes later Sly was gnawing on his fingernails and staring at a settings menu with a look one could only describe as murderous.

“Is it playing up?” Mizuki asked, well aware signal on the island wasn’t always amazing and hoping his plans wouldn’t be thwarted by the rain that fell heavily outside, uncharacteristic for summer but not actually that unwelcomed considering how clammy it had gotten lately. He did have to admit though, that bad signal wouldn’t explain why Sly was currently hovering over the ‘display settings’ option, wondering if he’d wanted to change the aspect ratio but doubting that was something he’d suddenly started caring about.

“I don’t know how to use this,” his voice was a murmur, ashamed of having to admit it.

“The remote?” Mizuki’s voice was more amused than Sly liked, debating flinging the stupid remote at his head then reminding himself to calm down and scowling at how easy it was to tamp down the momentary rage that had risen in his gut.

“I don’t exactly have a fucking smart TV, do I?” In fact his physical possessions equated to Ren and the small amount still at Tae-san’s house, his bag containing one change of clothes, some cigarettes and a mixture of various illegal substances, and that was about it.

“Okay, okay, sorry, didn’t mean to be an ass.” Mizuki’s face was so honestly apologetic Sly couldn’t even be angry with him anymore, turning to flop onto the sofa with a huff.

“Whatever,” he groused, accepting the remote again when it was set up and handed to him, immediately flicking to the horror section, deciding he didn’t care if Mizuki would rather watch some cliché romance. Even if they were actually dating, (which they weren’t, no matter how deluded the bartender was), Sly was certain he wouldn’t change any of his tastes just to please Mizuki.

 

It was awkward. That was the only way he could think to describe it. When they were together normally they’d be doing something much more active, but now, sat in the dark across from each other on the sofa, the air was tense and Sly almost wanted to squirm uncomfortably. The apartment was far from cold but he’d taken the blanket for himself anyway, anything to stop the bartender trying to wrap them both up in it, winding it around himself like a burrito so there was no way he would be parted from it without a fight.

Not that he wanted to fight, the film was actually pretty decent, entertaining enough to keep him interested and a cool beer in his hand instead of his usual stronger tipple. He’d complained about Mizuki hogging the corner of the L-shaped sofa, and thus having the ability to fully stretch his legs out across the couch, and had countered this by shoving his own feet abruptly, and without invitation into the bartenders lap.

The hand on his ankle he allowed, there was really no other place for Mizuki to put his arms now he was burdened with a pair of stubborn legs, one hand holding his beer and offering over a pre-lit cigarette occasionally, ashtray neatly resting just below Sly’s knees.

Sly is really glad he chose the film he did, because he’s actually paying full attention to it and it isn’t often he finds something enthralling enough to actually distract him from everything else going on, something he’s certainly needed lately.

He’s trying to locate the bottle opener when Mizuki jerks with a choked inhale as something lunges suddenly onto the screen and Sly laughs without thinking about it, finding it hilarious that he’d reacted so violently to practically nothing. He scoots closer to tease him unconsciously, his butt pressing into the tattooist’s thigh and his knees bent to rest against his chest, expression wide and smile not as mocking as he might like.

“Oh my God! I cannot believe you shit yourself like that, was little Mizuki scared?” He earns a raised eyebrow and an incredibly weak glare that falters into an exasperated grin as his cheeks are grabbed and squished between Sly’s entertained hands. “Awh, aren’t you just the cutest?”

“Adorable, I’m sure. Let go of my face,” he swats him away half-heartedly and just smiles when he makes a childish noise of disappointment and reaches forward for another beer, giving up his previous search as a lost cause and using his molars to pull the cap off instead.

“You’ll chip your teeth,” it’s a distracted remark, Mizuki too is engrossed in the movie as it progresses towards what will undoubtedly be a surprising conclusion, to really put much concern into it, and he knows Sly will just respond with an uncaring shrug anyway, as he indeed does.

He doesn’t feel the need to move away afterwards, instead he makes a pain of himself by wriggling all over the place until he’s comfortable and the blanket is suitably draped so he can make use of his hands, making up for the lost warmth around his chest by heavily dumping his head against Mizuki’s shoulder instead.

The bartender doesn’t complain, but then of course he doesn’t, he’s probably in heaven right now and Sly is so fucking comfortable he sees no reason to move, it’s not like he’s doing anything _too_ dumb.

 

But then Mizuki’s arm apparently goes numb and that’s his excuse to wrap it around Sly’s middle, other back on his calf as he lets his legs sag down onto him properly, all but [sat in his lap](http://minky-way.tumblr.com/post/162431524770/reference-images-for-chapter-5-anger-of) and fine with it until it’s reciprocated and this is definitely cuddling. It’s okay for a few minutes, first of all it’s _really_ warm and the night has gotten cooler now the sun has gone down, rain still pattering weakly against the high window behind the TV set. Secondly, Mizuki always smells really good and Sly has always openly appreciated this, not to the level of informing him, but he’s never made it much of a secret that he steals the bartender’s clothes for scent as well as comfort. Thirdly, he’s kinda drunk now, tipsy at least, and that soft haze of alcohol blurs his senses so he can just feel the soft rising and falling of Mizuki’s chest against his body, the fingers on his calf trailing concentric circles over his skin where the blanket has fallen loose.

It’s suddenly, inexplicably, too nice, too comfortable, too pleasant and safe and he wants to escape, squirming in the arms that hold him barely ten minutes into the movies sequel, panic rising in his throat and overwhelming his desire to see where that cliff-hanger led.

“Hey, calm down. It’s just me,” Mizuki urges, loosening his arm slightly where it wraps around his waist, he’s stiff as a board and suddenly looks like an animal ready to escape, eyes scanning the room for an exit. “Try to relax.”

It was easy. Too easy to relax back into the bartenders body, to surround himself with his warmth and his reassuring smell and to ignore it, to pretend the fingers now trailing up and down his waist aren’t making his skin tingle. So he accepts another beer and a cigarette and sits still again and reminds himself that this is fine and he’s still not doing anything dumb.

The kiss pressed to his hair about an hour later is too much.

Suddenly he wants to cry, Mizuki’s nose nuzzling into his hair and against the skin of his neck just making his throat clog up and okay so maybe he’s actually drunk, but honestly why does that matter now? He’s an emotional wreck 90% of the time anyway, without the influence of alcohol and all this tenderness that makes him feel like a horrible, guilty mess who doesn’t deserve to be treated so well.

“Stop it.” It was a whisper, he sounded scared, so unlike himself that he hated it.

“Hm?” He hadn’t heard, lips moving in a soft hum against his skin and it was like a million insects clawing at his flesh and making the blood drain from his face because damn he didn’t like this. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, the real issue was that he didn’t deserve it.

“Stop it,” his voice was wet and he was ashamed to admit he missed it when Mizuki moved back, arm around his waist retreating a little to land on the small of his back and trail up his spine, warm contact sparking through his clothes.

“Stop what?” It was a quiet mumble, almost a purr, like a cat being lavished with attention, fingers now in his hair, twisting a strand round.

A shiver ran up his spine and he freaked the fuck out, elbows and feet kicking until the suitably alarmed bartender released him, grunting as his elbow sunk into something soft, his stomach perhaps. But by then it was already too late. It was too much and too different and he hated that he didn’t hate it, hated that he already missed the attention, hated how terrible and worthless it made him feel.

“Everything! Stop all of this!” His eyes were so blurry he couldn’t see, trying to blink away the tears only for them to fall instead and oh fuck what was happening to him? He could see Mizuki’s face and it was wide open in shock, forehead furrowing and all Sly could do was cry. He could still feel the fingers on his skin, the kiss on his hair and the arms round his middle and fuck he didn’t want any of it but he couldn’t stand if it went away either. He didn’t deserve any of it and that was the worst part. It made him feel like he was worth something and he knew damn well he wasn’t. How dare Mizuki make him feel things he didn’t want to, things he’d kept buried away for years.

“You’re crying.”

“And whose fault is that!” He swiped at his eyes angrily, feeling suddenly terrifyingly vulnerable, more than when he fought with people of greater numbers and strength than him, more than when Scratch had pinned him down, more than the second time he’d been drugged and had hallucinated monsters. This was far scarier than all of it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever made you cry before.”

“Well get a fucking good look, it’ll be the last time you see it.” He’s trying to sound angry but since he’s crying it doesn’t really work, and he’s crying for such a stupid reason which hardly helps either.

“It’s normal to want to be loved, you know.”

“Not for me. _God,_ everyone I’ve ever cared for has left me, and don’t say you won’t do the same because I don’t believe you,” Mizuki hadn’t even tried to say so, he knows this isn’t an argument as much as it is Sly saying things he needs to, and if he has to yell to do it, he won’t try to stop him, watching him count the people who’ve left on his fingers. “My real parents didn’t want me, that’s obvious, then I got adopted and guess what? They didn’t want me either! Then my Grandma gave up, then my twin died, now who do I have left? You. And I already cause you so much trouble we both know this will never work. Even if I wanted it to, it wouldn’t because I’m me and eventually you’ll get sick of hiding me or having to deal with me or doing everything for me and you’ll get sick of me too.”

Now this, he objects to, but he should really know by now that he’ll be shot down, “no, Sly, you don’t-“

“I don’t understand? Yes I do! So you love me? _So what?_ That doesn’t fix anything! This isn’t a movie, love doesn’t overcome all, it does nothing except mean it’ll hurt more when you realise we aren’t practical!”

“What if we were practical?” He’s not good at listening to reason, he’s not a fan of hypotheticals either, but Mizuki has to try something, and he knows it’s a good sign that Sly is still there, swiping his eyes dry and looking frustrated, and small, and very sad.

“Why does it matter? We’re not!”

“Pretend, for five minutes, that your reputation improves, or… Hell I don’t know, people are okay with you, with _us._ What then?”

“Then- Then there wouldn’t be a problem.” He’s quietened, and his cheeks are still wet but his anger has seeped out of the cracks in his lip, and he’s averted his gaze. “With staying.”

“So let’s pretend there isn’t, just for now, for tonight. You can do that much, right? Just, try not to overthink it. Just let it be.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do! But it’s so _hard_. I’m so fucking tired, and… And _frustrated_. All this is happening at once and it’s, it’s too much, I can’t,” he pauses and his hands are around his waist tight, wrapping himself up and face exposed as he hitches around his words and starts crying again, shoulders shaking as he stands there, exposed. “I miss my brother.”

He wants to get up, to comfort him, but finds a better idea instead, and speaks, and Christ this could be a terrible idea but it’s too late now and Sly is already crying so it can hardly get much worse than it is already. “What would he tell you to do, if he were here?”

“Something sappy, probably.”

“Like what?”

He doesn’t have to think for long, and he’s put on this soft, lilting voice that actually manages to take Mizuki by surprise, sounding so weirdly foreign in a mouth more used to cut off insults and retorts so sharp they slice his tongue. “ _’He’s not family, he doesn’t have to love you, he chooses to._ ’ He’d tell me not to let that go to waste.” He sniffs, wiping at his arms, the echo of his brothers soft voice soothing the tired patches in his mind where thoughts swirl and crash, corralling them into a soft ebb of insecurity and fear. “Fuck, you would have liked him so much.”

“I still would have liked you more,” Sly laughs then, unsurprised at his cheesy statement and breath catching wetly but with enough of a smile that the bartender feels justified in smiling back, reassuring and fond. “What else would he tell you to do?”

He sighs, seemingly frustrated, rolling his eyes as he speaks, “to let you look after me, since you’re apparently an actual saint. To tell you when I’m feeling shitty instead of just being angry instead.” He sighs, a fond, wistful smile flitting across his face as he analyses his problems with perfect accuracy, “lots of things, he was good at advice.”

“You don’t want to follow any of that?”

He shakes his head but it’s incredibly half-hearted, wiping at his eyes and feeling the flood of grief sway between bearable and unbearable levels in his chest, settling for smiling teasingly instead. It hurts less when he pretends. “You just want an excuse to try and cuddle again.”

“Maybe. You wanna?”

“Never,” but he’s flopped down on the couch next to Mizuki, tacky face and all, sniffling damply but not objecting to the arm around his shoulders, pulling him into Mizuki’s side and wriggling until they’re both comfortable. “We’re still pretending, right?”

“Of course.”

 

When they go to bed, after re-watching the movie they missed the start of, Mizuki kisses him for a long time and Sly just lets him, hearing his brothers voice in his head and relaxing in the bartenders embrace. Letting himself enjoy the softness for once, to think that okay maybe this is nice, and that maybe he likes Mizuki’s hands on him no matter what the context is but that this is so secret and, dare he say, intimate, that it feels even more potent.

Then he moves away so his head is too far down to kiss, and Mizuki figures that’s all he’s getting, Sly’ll grab his customary before-bed cigarette, and that’ll be it, but then he speaks into his chest, still curled into him. “You have really big hands.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” he ignores the question in his tone and that’s such a Sly thing to do that Mizuki just nods and lets the comment slide, knowing if his hand size was a bad thing that he would have mentioned it by now. The bartender tries to lift up a hand to regard it, but Sly grips onto his wrist firmly, keeping it around his waist and making a grumbled noise of protest when he has to stretch a bit to flick the lamp off.

“Goodnight, Sly,” he whispers as he worms back under the sheets, burying his nose into his hair, and thinking that this might just be the best night they’ve ever had.

 

* * *

 

From his own bed to one a damn sight paler but with undoubtedly less questionable company, light falling in shades of apathetic mid-afternoon over the crisp sheets and crispier scent of antiseptic in the air. It’s pervasive, the way these places suck the life out of you while promising to do the exact opposite, a sort of divine hypocrisy, if such a thing could exist on this mortal plane.

Mizuki doesn’t know why hospitals always make him feel this way, so small and insignificant and yet so damned self-conscious all at the same time. As if doctors are seeing him pass and noting the slight shake of his hands, like the nurses can see something he can’t in the sticky pallor of sweat on his brow, like the patient in the wheel chair, wheezing into an oxygen mask, is running bets in their head.

He loses in every one.

He fights to shake off the feeling that something is wrong here, like the system itself functions only to draw in the sickly and exploit them, like each ward isn’t full of people with weak hearts but minds as strong as anyone else’s.

There’s a horrible sick feeling in his stomach and his head hurts. He wonders if he should stop at the nurse’s desk and ask for painkillers then just as easily breezes by because he doesn’t want anything killed even if it is for the best.

 

Koujaku is fine, he’s smiling and asks Mizuki how he’s doing as if that matters in comparison to his own state. He gets fits of some kind apparently, the doctors are trying to work out a medication for them and he’s been recommended a medic alert Allmate that can track and alert him when he’s about to fit. He says he’s perfectly happy with Beni but there’s a dog-eared catalogue on the over-bed table next to his jug of water and his coil, so he’s at least considering it. Mizuki says he thinks it’s a good idea, to be safe if nothing else, and is surprised when Koujaku says he’s been recommended a good model by Noiz, who apparently visits frequently to bother him, remarking with strange, exasperated fondness what a brat he is.

He asks Mizuki to keep an eye on Kou for him, and he agrees easily, offering to do anything he can to help, still not sure what it was he’d done, what he’d seen that had made Koujaku freak out the way he had back in the Junkyards. Conversation falls into more gentle territory then, and there’s only five minutes left of visiting hours when the bartender leaves, a hand that for once isn’t bandaged squeezing his with strength, teasing that he needs to practice his apple peeling skills.

A voice that asks how Sly is doing and pulls him up short even as a nurse pops her head into the room and says she’s very sorry, but he has to leave, he can message Koujaku’s coil if he really needs to, but he’s been through a lot and needs rest.

 

He waits til he’s home to call, Sly is missing but he knows he planned on returning to his Granny’s to get Ren today anyway, so he dials and listens with mild exasperation as Koujaku laughingly apologises for scaring him. Virus and Trip talked about it, apparently, while holding him captive and doing whatever it is he deems not necessary to disclose, says he’s surprised but knows Mizuki did always have a habit for seeing the best in people.

His voice is lighter than it would have ever been before this whole kidnapping business, and somehow it encourages Mizuki to talk, to spill and say everything he can’t tell Tio, or Sly, or anybody. He tells him secrets, how warm Sly can be, how occasionally affectionate, how he feels fifteen again sometimes and how he still gets butterflies. Koujaku teases, but he listens for a good hour and he seems to be on their side, as much as anybody can be anyway.

 

When Sly comes back from somewhere that was distinctly not his Granny’s, he’s hammered but in a good mood, and before Mizuki can even hang up he’s got armfuls of whisky scented roommate grinding his knee against his crotch and biting at his neck, making up the weakest excuse to end the call as rapidly as possible.

Sly laughs when they roll off the couch and Mizuki’s mouth swallows the sound, kissing it away like he wants to hold that pretty, bubbling eruption of joy right in the centre of his chest where it can be kept safe.

 

* * *

 

“How’d I look?”

Tio took a moment to regard him, looking up from the inventory he’d been lazily scanning, ticking off what had been in the delivery and circling one item he honestly couldn’t recall, it wasn’t a standard question and he was so bored he didn’t mind pausing to answer.

He didn’t look massively different to normal, his hair still trying to escape from it’s designated floppy quiff and nothing about his face suggesting he wanted an opinion on anything but [his outfit](http://minky-way.tumblr.com/post/162431544645/reference-photo-of-kins-outfit-for-chapter-5), which admittedly was a little nicer than normal. The jeans had already gartered a lingering stare, looking less worn in than his others and dark wash clinging to his legs far too well, rolled up a couple of times around his ankles and ending in a pair of tan coloured ankle boots, laced loosely. His usual t-shirt and baggy hoodie were missing too, replaced with a checked shirt in dull tones of red looped around his waist, neckline of his white tee frayed in a deliberate way, and the whole look, if it could be called a look, topped off with a black bomber jacket.

This was, of course, all taken in within about three seconds, and commented on in even less, humming and using his excuse to stare a little longer before he spoke, barely thirty seconds having passed since he’d been asked and not long enough yet for Kin to nervously shuffle, shrugging his response into the air between them and returning to his papers.

“I’d fuck you.” There was a brief lull of everything then, time, space, whatever, returning gently as Tio realised what he’d said and frowned down at his pen, not entirely sure that had come out how he’d wanted and listening to Kin’s polite questioning with nothing but amusement.

“Excuse me?”

“Not- Not like that.”

“Oh damn, I thought I’d finally turned you.”

“You’re hilarious, really. But I meant, like, in terms of the expression? You know, sometimes you look at yourself in the mirror and you’re just like, hell yeah, I’d fuck me, I look good today. Like that. You know? It’s a _thing_.”

Kin just nodded slowly, mouth creasing into that lopsided smile, thumbs tucked into his pockets and laughing his response with an incline of his head to show he knew Tio hadn’t meant what it might seem he had. “Okay, I’m not sure it is, but I’ll take it. That’s not really what I’m going for though.”

“Well, what’s it for?”

“Um,” here he hesitated, rubbing at the nape of his neck and shifting from foot to foot, looking for all the world like he could be a model feigning a casual attitude on a street corner, Tio not missing the irritating way a slight change of wardrobe was making him notice so much more than usual. “Just dinner with some guys from the team. Just- Um, well I actually only just found out, but apparently it’s like a group-date, thing?”

“Oh.” His tone was so flat he almost cringed, surprised at how bothered by that he sounded when he was more surprised than anything, having thought…. Well, he didn’t know what he’d thought, what was important was that it hadn’t been what Kin said.

His reaction hadn’t been missed and Kin’s hands were fidgeting with the sleeves of the shirt now, adjusting them at his waist and twisting his tee around, unintentionally wrinkling the material. “It’s not a big deal, just some girl I met at the hospital, she’s friends with Ken’s girlfriend apparently so… Guess they saw me talking to her once and thought I was interested or something.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, um, she works in the café. She just said she sees me around a lot and stuff, we got talking and she seemed nice. Didn’t really think I’d end up on a group date with her though.”

“Hmmm,” he lengthened his hum, trying to sound teasing even as he had to admit he’d suddenly been swung for a loop, utterly baffled as to what was happening and why he hadn’t even considered that Kin’s crush on him didn’t make him automatically gay. But Kin was embarrassed so it was easy enough to spread a well-meaning smirk across his face and lean across the counter to tease him, watching his cheeks get pink. “So you _do_ want to look fuckable.”

“I mean, she’s nice and whatever but she was a bit… Touchy? Like, those girls that touch your arms all the time and stuff, you know?”

“No, I don’t.” He did. Working in a bar came with a fair amount of misdirected women trying to flirt with him and he knew _exactly_ the type Kin was talking about, but it came out before he realised how cold it was, how passive aggressive and _Jesus,_ he really needed to sort himself out.

“Um, no, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere fancy, just that burger place up past Aoyagi Street, the others suggested it.”

“I’ve heard it’s good there, you’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

“Of course, you’ll be the first to know.” There was misplaced fondness in his tone, in the gentle crinkle of his eyes and the spattering of freckles across the back of his hand as he adjusted the watch on his wrist, one Tio had never seen before and now realised he’d never wanted to.

 

* * *

 

Things were going great, until suddenly they weren’t and honestly that was an expression Mizuki had been able to use far too many times lately, neatly ducking the plate Sly had taken it upon himself to Frisbee at his head and removing his jacket quietly, hanging it up while he looked for another projectile.

A book this time, not quite moving in time and hard corner whacking into his hip, jarring against the bone and leaving him to wonder, not for the first time today, just what he was meant to have done wrong to earn this barrage.

Days like this made him wonder if this whole thing was worth it, thinking back to the friends he’d just left in the bar, to the couples that had come along for once, to hands held and laughter between them. They certainly wouldn’t go home and start flinging about expensive electronics, second hand or otherwise, wincing as Sly’s coil was torn off his wrist so fast it left a long, angry red scratch in its wake, thunking against the wall ominously.

“I was at my fucking Granny’s, asshole! You don’t have to send me like fifty messages asking where I am!”

“I sent four.”

“Four too many! What am I, some pet to you? God, Amaya has more fucking freedom than I do, you don’t freak out when she doesn’t come home for a couple of hours.”

“Nobody’s going to try and drug her, or stab her, or beat the shit out of her.”

“Nobody’s going to do that to me either! I went to see my Granny, make sure she was eating because, you know, her Grandson fucking died, and I’m trying to be nice for once and make sure she’s okay and my fucking coil won’t shut the fuck up!”

He concedes defeat because honestly, it’s easier and it’s clear Sly hasn’t even read the messages, if he had he certainly wouldn’t have felt all this abuse necessary, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. How’s she doing?”

“No! You’re not meant to apologise when I’m being an asshole!” Mizuki honestly suddenly feels so done that he can’t help what slips out of his mouth next, muttering it but not conscious enough of how quiet the apartment is other than Amaya mewling up at them pitifully, so of course, Sly hears.

“You’re not even trying.”

He looks indignant, angry, maybe even a little hurt under the clear insult he took the words as, making a visible effort to keep his tone calm if not a little barbed as he speaks. “Have I disappeared?”

“What?”

“Have I fucking _disappeared_?”

“What, Sly, no-“

“No. I haven’t. I’m still fucking here so don’t you _dare_ tell me I’m not trying,” he’s advanced on him now, jabbing a sharp finger into his chest and Mizuki wishes that just for once, he could return from work and not have to deal with this. “Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean I’m not. If I wasn’t I would have left days ago, I would never have come in the first place so shut your stupid, superior mouth and leave me the fuck alone!”

They’re both stubborn, but Mizuki has grown tired of this faster than he’d expected and he sighs, pushing Sly away so he can start collecting up chunks of broken plate, really wishing he could just leave Sly alone and knowing he can’t. “You’re trying, I know that, I’m just sick of us arguing.”

“You think I’m not? I don’t _like_ yelling at you, but when you do dumb shit like this it’s hard not to.”

“Mm-hm,” he’s ignoring Sly and he’s never been the biggest fan of that, opening his mouth to demand the attention he feels he deserves, but Mizuki speaks over him and that is as close to suicidal as he can get. “Would you at least read the messages before you yell at me next time?”

Silence falls and Mizuki doesn’t see the point in turning to see Sly’s face as his coil clicks open with a soft, familiar chime, focused on gathering up pottery shards and dumping them into the bin, deciding the book can wait to have its pages unbent where it had been savagely flung into his side. There’s a pair of legs at his side as he cuts his finger on a small chunk, and it takes until the blood droplet falls to the floor for Sly to say anything, but when he does, it’s nothing he might have expected.

“Granny told me not to visit for a while. Said I remind her too much of him. I would have yelled no matter what was in the messages.”

He still doesn’t want to look, he can see Sly nervously playing with his hands in the corner of his vision and that’s apology enough, watching the twitchy wringing of pale fingers and nodding slowly, “because you’re angry?”

“Not at you. But yeah. Because I’m angry.”

“And the messages?”

“You do realise you’re bleeding?”

“It’s fine,” he hears Sly scoff and he disappears out of sight, he probably wants to be alone after being told something so brutal by his only remaining family and Mizuki understands that, so he starts when he returns with both dustpan & brush, and the first-aid kit. “It’s not that big a cut.”

“Shut up.” He’s just as sweet as always and Mizuki just rolls his eyes in amusement as he roughly dabs his finger clean with a cotton bud, revealing a small flap of broken skin that will be healed in a couple of days. “I want Chinese food, and you can pick a movie but no soppy shit, alright?”

“Sure.”

“And if one of the ice-creams is cookie dough, you’re eating it, that shit is gross.”

“Okay.” His voice is so fond he can see Sly almost visibly recoiling as he unwraps a plaster and sticks it around his finger, not caring much to be gentle in his movements, blood blooming across the fabric immediately but not seeping out. He seems to deem it acceptable, though he keeps Mizuki’s hand in his lap for a little too long, voice softer with what it turns out is nostalgia, or maybe grief.

“When I was little and got hurt, my brother used to kiss it. Said it would stop it hurting.” He’s a hopeless romantic, he already knows that, and the idea that Sly might follow his twin’s advice and kiss his finger better is too precious for him to realise that it would never happen. His hand is abruptly dumped out of Sly’s lap and a lighter roars in the second after he speaks, “never worked though.”

 

* * *

 

“How’d the date go?”

“Aha,” his laugh was uncomfortable more than anything else and the way he raised his eyebrows reassured Tio instantly that it can’t have been good, watching his cheeks intently as if expecting an incriminating blush that didn’t come. “Pretty much a disaster.”

“That sucks, how come?” Nothing in his tone was genuine but Kin didn’t seem to notice, sitting down opposite him, back in his normal clothes, baggy hoodie and jeans worn light with wear and too many hot washes.

“Well the girl’s nice, I guess, too touchy though. She made me kinda uncomfortable to be honest, and the others were in their own world so, it got a little awkward.”

“Hm, doesn’t sound that bad.”

“Nah, that wasn’t so bad, I could have dealt with that, eaten food, made conversation then just fobbed her off or whatever. But um, halfway through my ex showed up. So, that was _really_ awkward.”

“Your ex?”

“Mm. I haven’t seen him in a while, probably over a year, I’m not really sure.” He shrugged, but he looked uncomfortable suddenly, playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck and fingers trailing up and down the condensed side of his energy drink can. “Just awkward, you know? Seeing an ex.”

“I guess so. You gunna see the girl again?”

“Nah, I don’t think so, I don’t think she was very into it either,” and somehow, Tio feels immediately better, for reasons he doesn’t care to think about.

 

* * *

 

“Kin!” He tensed so hard, so drastically that Tio could feel the air between them tighten with animosity, turning to regard the figure running towards them, pausing when he reached them and smile too wide to be anything but hungry. His eyes roamed across Tio so absently he was almost offended, gaze dropping off as if he’d estimated him as no threat, focusing on the solid tower of nervousness beside him.  “Hey, haven’t seen you in a while, you’re looking good.”

“You saw me last week.”

“Oh that barely counted, besides, it was dark in there, I couldn’t see you _properly_ ,” Tio’s still trying to work out who the hell this guy is, growing more confused and feeling a spike of protectiveness as he beams up at his companion with dazzlingly perfect teeth. “You been working out?”

“A bit.”

“Hm, I can tell. So, what have you been up to?” He didn’t leave any time for Kin to even try and answer, but he seemed to be expecting that and didn’t so much as part his lips to respond, seemingly knowing exactly when his time to speak actually was. “I heard you joined Dry Juice, apparently your cocktail routine is to _die_ for, I might have to come check it out one time.”

“I can’t stop you.”

“Awh, when did you get so cold? We used to be so close, I’m just trying to be friends again, like in the good old days.” [He’s the ex](http://minky-way.tumblr.com/post/162431719665/reference-images-for-taichi-kurosawa-in-chapter), it clicks suddenly and all Tio’s jealous thoughts of how damned attractive this guy is, magnify tenfold, immediately developing a massive dislike of everything about him, from his perfect, wavy brown hair, to his big brown eyes.

“They weren’t that good,” Tio had never heard Kin so subdued, shrugging one shoulder half-heartedly and shifting his weight nervously, shoulders pulled down as if trying to make himself smaller, muttering as if he didn’t want to be heard.

He sounds so uncomfortable under the others flattery, hell, he _looks_ uncomfortable, and Tio really doesn’t like that, possessive instincts kicking in and speaking without really thinking it through, as it seems he’s increasingly prone to doing these days. “Why don’t you just leave him alone? It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

There’s a beat of silence and Kin squirms beside him, seemingly not enjoying the fact his discomfort has been made so obvious but not making any effort to tell Tio to stop either, he seems torn even as his so far nameless ex twists his momentary expression of sheer contempt into a pretty mask instead.

“Dude, I’m sorry but you got me wrong, I’m not trying to get in the way of whatever’s going on here.” There was definite malice in his expression even as he laughed and waved his hands disarmingly, seeming charmingly apologetic to anybody who wasn’t well versed in the way these people wormed into your psyche. “You two are cute by the way, how long you been together?”

“We’re not together,” this was Kin, and he suddenly didn’t seem put off at all by the lies spewing from that prettily falsified smile, just answering calmly and glancing at Tio out the corner of his eye like he might a dog about to snap. Animosity was coming off him in waves, but the ex didn’t even flinch, smile not nasty but something about his eyes too cunning and calculating to allow Tio to relax. “What do you want?”

“Always so blunt, Ki-Ki.”

“You’re not allowed to call me that, Kurosawa.” The last name slipped out with deliberate intent, the man stood opposite them just pretending to pout in sadness a blind man could identify as being nothing but false. Kin standing tall suddenly, as if the very action of distancing himself had solidified something inside him, “we have to go, we’ve got work.”

They don’t have work, it’s the middle of the day and even without Tio’s confused expression, the ex doesn’t seem stupid enough to fall for such a dumb lie. Sensible enough to pretend to though.

“Aw, okay, I’ll drop in one night to see you. Have a good shift,” his wave was aimed right at Tio and he didn’t miss the challenge in his eyes even as he smiled innocently and walked away humming a light-hearted tune.

“So. That was the ex, what did you think?” He’s lit a cigarette and now Tio knows how uncomfortable he is, because he’s not a big smoker, only when he’s really stressed or worried about something does he bother to light up and the second, the very _second_ his ex has walked off, there’s a cigarette in his mouth.

“I feel really weird. Is he always like that? So… I don’t know, intense?”

“Pretty much, you just need to ignore everything he says, especially about me.” His voice is hard again and neither of them are used to hearing that tone, Tio’s expression of unease faltering into one of concern as he glances over at his friend, who has started walking without him.

“What would he say?”

“Nothing you should believe. Come on, these snacks aren’t going to buy themselves.”

 

They walk in silence for a while, but Tio feels uncomfortable and Kin still hasn’t relaxed his shoulders properly, only really making things worse with his question but so curious and incredulous that he can’t resist.

“He called you Ki-Ki?”

“When he wanted something, yeah.” Tio had been teasing, but Kin’s tone is serious and his smile drops away as fast as the subject does.

 

* * *

 

He glances up as somebody slides into the booth opposite him, surprised as he knows the place isn’t crowded enough to warrant the need for a stranger to share his table, the other speaks the second they make eye contact and he’s too stupidly polite to immediately leave like he wants to.

“Kin! Fancy seeing you here.”

“Are you following me?” He doesn’t realise how horrified by the idea he is until he speaks and there’s genuine paranoia in his words, glancing round as if looking for a camera crew about to jump out and yell that this has all been an elaborate prank. But there’s only Taichi sat opposite him, cheeks hollowed as he sucks his drink up through a straw, looking at him through honey brown eyes under long lashes and laughing as he swallows and shakes his head as if he’s being ridiculous.

“No, of course not! I just wanted a milkshake and you know this place is the best on the island.” He knows what he’s drinking without needing to ask, the double cookie milkshake, a disgusting monstrosity of vanilla and chocolate swirled milkshake, mixed with crumbled cookies and topped with an obscene amount of cream. He also knows this _is_ and always was his favourite place for milkshakes, so he can’t argue his perfectly realistic reason for their accidental meeting. That doesn’t mean he likes it though.

“Hm, so is there something you want?”

“I guess so… Seeing you made me think about a lot of things, I know I was an ass when we were together, and I took you for granted. I just wanted to apologise, I made a mistake and hurt you, I know that now, and that was sucky of me.” Kin scoffed, rolling his eyes and staring across the table at him, not even sure if this was one of his rehearsed techniques or not because it sounded so genuine. He looks nervous now, his hand is inching across the table to poke at Kin’s, and when it’s allowed he takes it carefully, squeezing in apology and looking genuinely rueful. “I thought maybe we could be friends again?”

“Just friends?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind more, we _were_ great together.” Both hands are on his now, milkshake abandoned to melt and that alone is almost proof of how sincere this atonement is, Kin feeling a pang of nostalgia in his chest at the stupid, stick-and-poke tattoo on Taichi’s thumb, a tiny smiley face.

“Hm, we weren’t bad.”

“See? Oh come on, you gotta admit you missed us too. We were like, a power couple,” he talks like they were island-famous, like they were really something amazing and Kin remembers all the good times now, suddenly feeling like he’s been pretending they didn’t happen for too long. “It doesn’t help that you’ve only gotten hotter.”

“I didn’t do it for you.” But the blatant compliment only makes him blush, those honey eyes on his face making him melt the way they always used to and okay, maybe things could be patched up, he’s missed him, he considers for a minute, missed having somebody to hold hands with.

“No, but I appreciate it anyway.”

“You always were a smooth talker.”

“Awh, you’re nostalgic already, Ki-Ki!” When Taichi grins, Kin does too, but this time it doesn’t feel false.

 

* * *

 

 

They’re hanging out at Kin’s, the small window in his living room not doing much to help the trapped heat in the place, and Tio’s almost debating taking his shirt off before he  completely soaks it with sweat, when Kin emerges from his bedroom with two tops, brandishing them almost nervously. “Which ones better?”

“You got another date?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Blue one.” He doesn’t hesitate to answer, nodding his beer bottle towards it and taking another swig that doesn’t cool him down much, frowning because there’s tension in broad shoulders and something suddenly feels wrong in the atmosphere between them. “Who’s it with? The girl again? Thought she was a bit much?”

He ignored him, or at least he deigned not to answer, unfolding a battered looking ironing board instead and turning his back on him, Tio growing suspicious as he didn’t answer easily, his pretence that the mere idea doesn’t annoy him dying and tone insistent. “Kin, who’s your date with?”

“Um, it’s er, with Taichi.”

He frowns, because he has no idea who that is, and considering Kin is apparently on first name terms with them and they exist within the same friendship circle, that sounds odd, “who?”

“Oh, right, Kurosawa.”

“That’s pretty funny, but no seriously, who’s it with?” He laughs, choking and bubbles go up his nose, grimacing and unable to see Kin’s expression and how stoic its remaining, how he obviously isn’t lying even though what he’s saying is ridiculous.

“Kurosawa.”

If this is a joke it isn’t funny anymore and he’s getting annoyed that Kin might think this is an acceptable topic to joke about, instead of an incredibly sensitive one, lowering his beer onto his bare knee and tone so stern he hates himself a little. “Okay, you’re misunderstanding how jokes work, you make the same one twice in a row and have it still be funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Kin, are you _seriously_ going on a date with your lunatic ex?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking it might work this time.” He’s hiding, not literally of course, but he’s concealing himself behind the ironing board and the shirt he calmly begins easing the creases out of, movements of the iron gentle and soft even as his arms are rigid with tension.

“Why? It didn’t last time, you broke up for a reason.”

“Yeah, and you don’t even know what that is.” They’re on the verge of an argument and neither will back down because Kin thinks Tio is being too protective and Tio thinks Kin is making a terrible decision. In a way, maybe they’re both right.

“Because he was a liar and kinda insane!”

“I never said that.”

“Yes you did! I have the messages!” He brandishes his coil like a weapon, like they’re up in court and it’s indisputable proof, about to unlock it and prove himself right when Kin continues, knowing full well what he’d said and not wanting to be reminded.

“It doesn’t matter, he apologised, alright? We were together for nearly two years, that’s kinda a big deal and I’m sorry if I think that maybe we made a mistake breaking up.”

Two years. Tio’s taken aback at that because that, in his book at least, counts as long term and he’d imagined more of a fling, maybe six months at most, so to find out they’d had a serious, long relationship leaves him feeling oddly unsettled, like he’s afloat at sea and has just lost his life-jacket.

But he bounces back fast and even he can recognise that he’s being unreasonable, childish, that it’s painfully obvious how jealous he is in the acidic tone of his voice as he accuses, “funny how you never thought that til you saw him again and he got into your head.”

“You’re being pretty weird about this.”

“Of course I am! The guy’s a snake, I don’t want him anywhere near you.” He’s stood up but he’s not at all sure what for, to put them on a more even playing field he supposes, though Kin still has a good foot on him, not to mention a red hot iron should he get _really_ pissed off at him.

“A snake? That’s pretty petty.”

“Oh, I’m being petty, am I? I’m so sorry, _please_ , go on a date with the asshole, it’s not like he’s an ex for a reason.” God, he sounds like Sly and for a second his heart stills in his throat because this is what he always tries to avoid but he has to stop him going somehow and this is the only way he can think of, closing his eyes for a second because he can’t let himself get angry.

Kin, it seems, does not have the same mind-set, slamming down the iron so hard the board quakes and threatens to give way, eyes burning suddenly and any false calm completely gone, expression hard and firing words at him without considering the exit wounds.  
“You cannot say a _single thing_ about exes when you still hang around Mizuki like a pig on shit!”

The tension is so harsh Tio can’t even bring himself to feel guilty when Kin’s neighbour starts banging on the wall so they’ll shut up, just grabbing his jacket with hurt and anger swirling in equal measure in his gut.

“Who’s being petty now, asshole?” And with that, he slammed the door, earning other round of yells from next door and having to fight the urge to scream back at him to just shut the fuck up, jogging down the stairs as if Kin would even follow him.

 

The message pings through only about ten minutes later, but he waits until his temper has calmed down a little before opening it, stalking through the streets and alleyways of the island on the longest route home ever.

6:29 From- #1Loser

I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I won’t go if you don’t want me to.

 

It’s supposed to placate him, he supposes, to be as reasonable and considerate as he always is but somehow it just makes his blood boil because why the fuck does he always have to be such a damn martyr? He’s pressed the call button before he even registers it and there’s so much acrid frustration on his tongue that he doesn’t even let Kin speak before he’s launched into a tirade in the middle of the street.

“What does me not wanting you to, have anything to do with it? I’m not your fucking keeper, you can do what you want, I just didn’t think you were _stupid_ enough to agree to something so idiotic!”

“I’m not talking to you like this.”

“Like what? Kin? I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt here, I’m sorry if me caring so much bothers you! I’ll just leave you to fuck up your life, how’s that? Feel better now?”

He hears the sigh and it’s exasperated and upset in equal measure but he can barely hear it over the pounding of self-righteous blood in his head, “I don’t get why you’re so angry about this. You said it yourself, I can do what I like.”

His tone is infinitely reasonable even now, with Tio yelling down the phone at him like he’s done something terrible, “I’m not angry, I don’t get angry. I’m- Fuck, Kin, it was bad enough when you went out with that girl, now your ex too? You told me the guy was awful, and now you’ve done a 180, how am I meant to react?”

“I don’t know. Look, if this is going to make things weird between us I won’t go.”

“There’s nothing to make weird.”

“Yet already we’re arguing. Just- You can’t-“

He’s hesitating and God damn it Tio is _pissed_ , spitting into the phone and an old lady on the other side of the road shooting him a glare he doesn’t care about, “would you just say it?”

“Fine, you can’t refuse to date me or whatever then go mental because I want to see somebody else. It’s not fair, okay? If you want me for yourself just say so, because to be honest, this waiting is beginning to get exhausting.”

 

That was an ultimatum, only made more drastic when Kin hung up on him before he could even choke out a question, though he had no idea what it might be, stopped in the middle of Aoyagi street like a lunatic while people passed him without so much as sparing a glance. Something in his chest was so cold it burnt, lips parting and the sticky feeling of shame flooding him as he stood there, shoulders getting jostled by an impatient group of teenagers and just staring at his coil like the time display in the right hand corner might suddenly shift back twenty minutes.

It takes a while to sink in, the fact that he’s utterly fucked, that is, and when it does he follows his idiotic gut and makes a second phone call, diverting his route to a small apartment in the opposite direction to his own.

 

It’s a short exchange, it always is and he’s grateful for a lack of questions, “hey, Yuu, got any plans for tonight?”

“Nope, I’m free!”

“Wanna get drunk?”

“Always, come over, Kouhaku’s out.”

“Alright, see you in fifteen.”

 

He downs his beer too fast to be okay and it’s obvious as Yuu locks the door and settles down on the couch beside him, offering over the ash tray, “something happen?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he answers briefly, and Yuu looks concerned for a second before he uncaps a beer and opens a familiar app on his phone, entering their names and picking a card from the displayed circle.

“Drink two sips.”

 

When Kouhaku comes home he looks remarkably unimpressed about the beer bottles all over their coffee table, but just rolls his eyes and puts a distinctly wasted Yuu to bed, making sure Tio will be fine getting home and trying to get him to sober up long enough to promise to message when he gets home.

He doesn’t get said message, but then again, Tio doesn’t go home.

 

* * *

 

He has no idea what time it is, but the lights in the hallways are on, plus the building is quieter than normal which, in such a packed location, means it has to be midnight or later. But the door still eases open and he comes face to blurry face with Kin, stood in his pyjamas, pants a little too short and thin cotton flapping around his ankles, tone emotionless as he addresses him.

“Tio.”

“I’m sorry I was an ass. I didn’t mean to be.” That is absolutely not what he’d intended to say, but he’s drunk as hell and his last cigarette has just burned out in his fingers without him taking a single drag, so he can’t bring himself to be too bothered.

He doesn’t answer, just stares past him towards the darkened sky, sighing quietly as he notices he’s swaying on his feet and stepping aside to let him in, “you should come in. You been drinking?”

“Mm, with Yuu.”

“Okay, why?”

“Just felt like being drunk, I guess.” Kin nods, but the noise he makes is sympathetic and perhaps a little sad, hearing the down-trodden lilt to Tio’s voice and fetching him a glass of water and his last slice of bread, badly buttered, in an attempt to sober him up.

 

Kin puts on the TV, some crappy reality show neither of them care about, and they sit side by side in the dimly lit room together, Tio munching on the bread and swaying whenever he closes his eyes, and Kin keeping an eye on him and not bringing up what happened earlier.

But he’s drunk and feeling something strange, lonely or sad or whatever, and Kin is right there and with the warm fuzz over his senses, kissing him seems like a good idea, so suddenly he was kissing him and Kin was letting him and of course he was because Kin really liked him and he was just a shitty friend who was taking advantage of that.

But he pulled away then and the hand in his hair disappeared and so did the one on his hip and he could feel blue eyes staring at him, asking a question he couldn’t answer and suddenly he feels terrible and it’s not just because of the beers sloshing around in his gut.

“That- That was a fucking stupid idea. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No. No it’s not. God, all I can do is make mistake after fucking mistake.”

“Not everything has to be a mistake,” it took a while for that to register but oh god Kin’s been drinking too, he can taste it on his breath and there’s vodka on the TV stand, and he’d actually wanted this for more than selfish reasons, kissing him again and Tio not sure whether to stop him or go along with it because fuck he liked kissing and he liked being close to somebody like this. But Kin was the wrong person and this wouldn’t end well for either of them and he was sick of hurting people’s feelings.

“No- Kin, don’t. Don’t. Please don’t.”

“Why not?”

He’s confused, because why not? Why isn’t he okay with this? He can’t quite recall and he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s drunk or because there’s never been a reason he can justify even to himself. “Cause we’re friends. Friends aren’t meant to do that.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah. Friends,” and he knew he was drunk already but he felt his eyes begin to burn and grow damp, excusing himself to the bathroom because he wouldn’t cry in front of Kin and not even when he didn’t know why he was crying, it was stupid, _he_ was stupid. So he cried over nothing in the bathroom instead and if Kin noticed when he re-emerged he didn’t say anything, just listened to him apologise like a guilty child.

He didn’t argue with Kin when he insisted 3am was too late to be walking anywhere, and especially with how drunk he was, Tio just nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted as Kin found him a blanket and pillow and set him up on the couch.

 

He leaves before Kin wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character Designs, updates, ficart and other things of interest- [here](http://minky-way.tumblr.com/tagged/intravenous-series)


	5. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist @ [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/minky-way/04-Contaminated)
> 
> The formatting on this chapter got /really/ screwed up, so please let me know if there are any errors so I can fix them!

He should probably be doing something other than staring at Mizuki, but he was bored and the atmosphere was nice today, the bartender working silently on a new design for somebody and music playing through the speaker system by the well-stocked bookshelf. Sly wasn’t familiar with many of the songs but he assumed they were the same sort the bar played, pop and some dance type stuff, things that were easy to like and had catchy, upbeat lyrics.

But he continued to study Mizuki, eyes scanning over the tilt of his jaw, the sharp angles of it and the way his slightly outgrown hair curled at the ends, tickling his neck and vest sliding off one shoulder, leg tucked up under his chin folding out to sit normally as he frowned minutely. Tiny lines appeared in his forehead then, cupids bow disappearing and eyebrows furrowing, lips pursed into the slightest displeased pout as he reached out for an eraser, leaning in close to the paper to swipe away a wayward line.

It was interesting to watch him, to flicker eyes across the thick piercing in his ear, knowing already it was stretched wider than normal to allow the wide band of metal to fit though, debating for a moment a stud or ring in his nose and deciding it wouldn’t be displeasing. He was pretty sure it would take a lot for Mizuki to be displeasing.

Pestering him wasn’t really on his mind as he stood up, bartender having just flicked a button to repeat the previous song, humming along absently and one bare foot tapping on the carpeted floor, warm and comfortable with the summer breeze coming through the windows.

As he approached, Mizuki absently glanced up for the slightest of moments, not for a long enough time to smile or anything, just having heard the soft tread of feet towards him, perhaps anticipating he’d enter the kitchen. But he stopped right in front of him where he sat sideways at the dining table, a position that apparently made it easier for him to sketch without smudging the design.

He didn’t do more than mumble indistinctly as Sly promptly put arms around his neck and plopped into his lap, sitting across his thighs and legs dangling above the ground, attempting to continue to draw with his newly acquired baggage.

“I’m trying to draw, Sly.”  
“I know, I’m trying to make out with you.” Up close he could see the amused tilt of his lip, the way his fingers twitched on the pencil as it left the paper and lingered uselessly above it, could see the faint flare of his nostrils as he finally focused on him, smiling as if he’d been waiting a while, eyebrows high and speaking almost chirpily. “Hi.”

“Hey, something you wanted?”

“I believe I already said what I want.” When he scoffed he rolled his eyes too and Sly was relatively sure the almost phlegmy sound of it shouldn’t be as pleasing as it was, perhaps just glad he could still mildly annoy him, watching him abandon his notebook to wrap an arm around his waist instead, switching the hand his pencil was in. “You can draw with both hands?”

“Mm, I’m ambidextrous. Jealous?” His eyes glinted with good humour, teasing him lightly and trying to pretend he wasn’t a distraction even as one of his hands wormed into his shirt to stroke the skin between his back and shorts.

“Massively,” another eye roll, olive eyes reaching skywards only to return and look right at him, huffing in reluctant fondness as Sly just looked expectant and he realised he had no choice in this, allowing the pencil to be pried from his hand with pale fingers. “Now pay attention to me.”

It was a nicely worded enough demand that Mizuki didn’t even mind being told what to do.

 

He’d say it was ironic, if he knew what that meant properly, that a few weeks ago the slightest hint of affection would have freaked him out but now he was here, sat on the tattooist’s thighs, hands playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck and making out to cliché pop music. He decided he didn’t mind it too much.

“Sly, I _really_ do have to finish this design by tomorrow and I’m not even half done yet.” His voice is inherently reasonable and Sly knows he’s been enough of a pest already to call it a day, feeling the warmth of summer and Mizuki’s body combine to make him feel even lazier, flopping over his shoulder like a cat.

“Fine, fine. Can I stay here?”

“Sat on me?” His voice rumbles where their chests join and Sly can feel it vibrate right into the tips of his fingers where the idea starts to build that maybe he could stay here, like this with Mizuki, forever. He grips the feeling tight, balling it up into his fist where it stays for now, but he can almost feel it swelling against his fingers, trying to force its way out of his mouth as something he’ll regret saying, so he hums agreement instead and lets his hand overflow with the feeling of _belonging._

“Mm-hm.”

“I guess. But… why?”

“You’re warm and I like to make things difficult.”

His laughter huffs against his cheek and Sly’s hair flutters with the sound, “I know that.”

“Yet still you asked,” Mizuki smiled then, he could feel it against his neck, accepting the kiss pressed there dryly a second later and closing his eyes to the sound of the pencil resuming its progress across the page, song changing to one he vaguely knew and feeling both sleepy and warm.

 

It had taken much longer than he expected to finish the design, sky streaked with beautiful peach and orange stripes as the sun began to sink down below the horizon, pausing to watch it through his high windows. He knew Sly had gone still a couple of hours ago without either of them having done anything about it, presumably having fallen asleep lying on him, face in his neck and long hair tickling his chin.

“Sly, you asleep?” He kept his voice as low and soft as he could, because he wouldn’t want to wake him and he knew he’d been having trouble sleeping lately, he needed all he could snatch. He just mumbled something and shifted so his nose was rammed into Mizuki’s hair under his ear, sniffling contentedly and going still again, not shifting much as he was picked up, Mizuki’s hands under his thighs and clinging onto him like a particularly cuddly koala.

 

He takes advantage of how tactile Sly is being, tucking him into bed and leaving him there for the shortest period of time he can, brushing his teeth, taking a piss and making sure the place is locked up in record time. Then he turns the fan on, opens the bedroom window as wide as it will go, and sips into bed beside Sly, able to bear even the hottest early-summer night if it means his half-asleep bed mate will allow the arms around his middle.

 

Sly is gone when he wakes up, Ren left in the kitchen next to cold sausages and an empty coffee mug with stained sides.

“He didn’t leave you with his Granny?” Mizuki enquires as he squirts ketchup onto two slices of bread and sandwiches the cold meat between them, putting the kettle on to boil and scratching absently at Ren’s ears, Amaya curling up between his feet on the cool kitchen floor.

“He planned to, but then she told him not to visit again and he ordered me to leave with him.”

Mizuki likes Ren’s honesty, though considering he’s an Allmate, he’s not sure if it can be considered that, nodding and swallowing as the kettle boils and he can pour water into his mug, smell of coffee warming him as much as the early afternoon sunshine.

“Was he upset when she said that?”

“He seemed distressed, yes. I do not think she meant to be cruel.”

“She’s grieving, people can be cruel when they’re in pain,” that was true of anyone, Tio had been cruel when he’d discovered the bartender and Sly, Kin had been cruel when he and Tio had fallen out for whatever reason, Mizuki was cruel after they rescued Beni-Shigure and Sly hadn’t been what he needed. Sly’s Granny was cruel to tell him not to visit, and to point out the similarities between him and his recently deceased brother, and Sly was cruel often, always.

Perhaps that just said something about how much pain he was in.

 

* * *

 

 

Tio is a piece of shit. This, to him at least, is an irrefutable fact given how he’s been acting lately, like Kin’s best friend one minute and like an insensitive, misleading bastard the next. He feels incredibly sick when he puts himself in the others shoes and even worse when he tries to figure out why the whole thing with Kurosawa has him so on edge. He knows why, he’s not stupid nor slow, and he’s been growing increasingly aware of how attractive he finds Kin ever since the Halloween party and his unfairly hot Swat costume.

But he’s scared too, to try this out and to make it work, to be in a relationship when he’s tried his best to avoid them thus far. This won’t be an arrangement, like with Mizuki, or a short period of dating ending in a brief fling, it won’t even just be a hook-up. This will be serious, and above all, he is afraid of things getting serious.

But he cannot avoid Kin even if he wants to, they are best friends above all else and he doesn’t want to lose that, despite being a member of a fairly large team, he has remarkably few close friends. Yuu counts, he supposes, and along with Yuu comes Kouhaku, so he guesses that’s two, and Mizuki as well though he knows they’re drifting apart a little as he and Kin get closer.

So he’s scared when he heads to work on Wednesday, knowing it’s one of the quietest nights of the week and knowing he and Kin will be left with nothing to do but exist behind the bar and wait for patrons. Normally they’d chat, make conversation and joke around, but the almost dark look he gets when he enters the bar and the complete lack of greeting make him think perhaps tonight they’ll both exist in silence.

 

It’s somehow more awkward than he anticipated, he still felt so incredibly stupid for having yelled at Kin like he had some kind of claim to him, it was embarrassing to have to admit his childish behaviour even to himself, let alone to have to apologise even as he knew he needed to. Something about saying sorry, about being guilty, always made snakes swarm in his stomach and he feels shaky as he lets himself linger on his faults, trying to work out how to gently ease into this.

He feels terrible, and he doesn’t like it, aiming for neutrality that fails because his topic of choice is a hot one.

"So,” he can feel the air get crispier as he speaks, he doesn’t turn to regard his co-worker and apparent best friend, but anticipates he froze at least for a second. He wonders if he feels guilty too, then feels worse because he has nothing to feel guilty about.  “Did you end up seeing Kurosawa again?”

“Yes,” there’s no inflection to his tone, he answers shortly and turns back to the coil he’d been playing on, leaning against the counter above the mini-fridges, and flitting the occasional eye on the only three customers they’ve received thus far.

“How'd it go?"

"Pretty good, same as it used to be really."

"Hm." He doesn't know why he asked let alone what he might have planned to respond with, just smiling thinly and turning back to the cash register. Something in his chest aches as Kin starts spinning a bottle with skill he taught himself, and it’s painful, eyes crinkling and hiding a sigh that makes his shoulders sag. “You gunna yet back together?”

“I don’t know about _that_ ,” he says it like it’s an outrageous idea and Tio can feel hope bloom for a second, but then Kin speaks and ruins it and he can feel hot, stupid impulse rise in his throat. “But maybe. We’re going out again next week.”

His answering hum is choked in his throat and before he can think it through he’s blurted it out and oh, he’s doing what he always does again and creating false hope. Issue is, this time he’s not entirely sure just how false it is. “Go out with me instead.”

Kin stops and turns with a raised eyebrow and Tio knows it’s the least he can do to at least look him in the face even as his expression distorts and he looks hurt, like he’s doing this to be malicious. He asks it carefully, simple word filled with meaning. This is a chance for Tio to take it back and pretend he said something else, this is Kin quietly saying that if he’s joking he needs to stop now or things won’t be fine between them. “What?”

He has to repeat it now and it’s a lot harder the second time around, swallowing and distantly aware his hands are trembling on the surface behind him, propping himself up like he might fall if left on his own two feet. “Don’t go out with him. Go out with me instead.”  
“Go out as in..?” He waits for Tio to fill the silence but rapidly continues when he doesn’t bother, voice disbelieving but in a surprised way more than anything else. The music isn’t loud, but Kin speaks so quietly Tio feels like the mere pounding of his heart could drown it out. “On a date? With you?”

“Mm-hm,” his voice is shaky and it errs into worryingly high pitched at the end, his nod is so jerky he feels like his teeth have to be rattling and his frayed sleeve is suddenly fascinating to him as he plays with it nervously.

Blue eyes are staring at him and Kin’s expression still hasn’t changed from being guarded and suspicious, he supposes it’s the least he deserves, to stand awkwardly in the silence, feeling like everything around him has become unreal as he disconnects. “You’re serious?”

His gestures and his words don’t mesh together well, his shrug is reluctant and awkward and now he finally stops looking, words still not firm enough to be believable, “yeah, I am.”

“Are you asking because it’s him, or because you’re jealous?”

“I don’t-“ But Kin is looking at him again and this is like actual torture and he knows he owes an answer, sighing in embarrassment, “the second one, or- Both, I guess. Mainly the second one.”

He regards for a moment longer, gaze piercing like a hawk, but he doesn’t swoop in for the kill, unless the dimple of his left cheek as he smiles counts, and Tio thinks it damn well might, “alright, are you free Tuesday?” He’s so baffled at how quickly he was answered that he just nods dumbly. “Cool, make sure you wear something pretty.”

He opens his mouth in amused indignation but Kin is already back to spinning bottles and he speaks before Tio gets a chance to collect himself and remark that if anybody is wearing something pretty it better be Kin. “Oh, and you asked, so you’re paying.”

He scoffs a little then, but he was planning on it anyway, “real gentleman, aren’t you?”  
“Sure am, but don’t worry, I’ll pick up the next one.”

The next one, huh? He thinks to himself, turning round and considering that there’s no way this could possibly go wrong now, hiding his smile where Kin can’t see and just nodding, “alright.”

He’s made the first move, and somehow that alone feels like a good step forward.

 

Kin walks home with him and they’re back to normal, laughing and joking and teasing each other, Kin keeps bumping into him and he bumps back every time, and he lets himself wonder if this is what dating him will be like.

It doesn’t seem as scary when he thinks that, in fact it sounds like everything he wants.

 

* * *

 

 

Sly is colouring in when he gets in from his afternoon tattooing shift. Filling in empty spaces with the pencil crayons Mizuki uses for sketches, lying on his stomach on the living room carpet behind the couch, TV on in the background going largely ignored, and having somehow found the apparent stress reducing colouring book he’d won in last year’s secret Santa.

“What you colouring?” He asks, feeling somewhat like he’s talking to a toddler as Sly just discards the orange for red, colouring in the creature’s mouth and most of its scales already filled in with greens and browns that don’t really go together.

“Snake.” He answers plainly, like it’s a perfectly normal thing for a grown man, or sort of grown, to be doing, and Mizuki is tickled by that.

“You know, Sly, sometimes when you’re here it’s like you’re not yourself anymore.”

He took a second to think this through, wondering if Mizuki had twisted his words the way he was now untwisting them in his mind, because he didn’t just mean when he came to Mizuki’s place, he meant when they were together. “Why do you think I agreed to stay?”

He doesn’t answer, and Sly is feeling charitable enough to elaborate, abandoning his snake and flipping through the pages for something else, stopping on a whale type thing with almost leopard style spots. “You don’t expect anything from me. So nobody’s disappointed while I’m here.”

“Is that why you don’t like your Granny’s?”

“She compares me to my brother, but I’m not him. She _wishes_ I was,” he’s picked up the blue to begin filling out the waves, pencil barely staying within the line and words absent as he focuses on his colouring. Mizuki’s glad he found something to distract himself with. “So she’s always disappointed. I mean, I don’t expect her to be proud of me or anything, she’s not that fucking stupid. I thought I was doing the right thing, going round to see her, to make sure she was okay. Being a decent fucking Grandson for once. But I guess I was a shitty let-down then too.”

He sounds upset, frustrated perhaps, annoyed that he was trying his best to do better by her and only managed to screw it up, feeling his attempts fall flat the second she turned to him with those watery eyes and told him she didn’t want to see him. His chest aches and he swallows loudly, focusing back onto his pencil choices and the soft sound of them scratching the smooth paper.

“Finish your whale,” he speaks softly, Sly’s feet toeing into the carpet as he nods and does as he’s advised, tamping down the fact that now he knows why his Grandma has resented him so much all these years, the knowledge that he isn’t the right person sticking in his chest like a rock. “I’m gunna cook, do you want pasta or curry?”

“Pasta.”

“Okay.” He hesitates by the dining table, surprised at the empty ash tray he finds there and wondering if Sly has been colouring all day, hoping it works for him as it never had for the bartender, pressure of staying within the lines and choosing complimentary colours only making his stress worse. “Your Granny’s wrong to not be proud of you.”

Sly doesn’t move to show he’s heard, he sets about sharpening the grey pencil into the bin by his side then gives up and reaches for the cigarettes instead and Mizuki feels like he misspoke, but there’s no anger in his voice, only exhaustion. “Just go cook, Mizuki.”

 

* * *

 

 

Mizuki sticks the finished whale-leopard thing on the fridge under a magnet shaped like a shoe and Sly objects only half-heartedly, rolling his eyes incredulously and finding a channel streaming a ‘true crime’ series, the two of them sitting in front of it with more pasta than is really advisable.

Sly stays for exactly two hours, the minute the credits of the second drama/documentary is over he’s standing and muttering something about going to bed even though it’s barely eight at night. Mizuki just lets him go, the next show had looked promising and he’s not really tired at all yet, despite his early morning and fairly busy day, packed with appointments.

 

He knows he’s not asleep in there, the light’s on for one thing, and it smells too strongly of smoke for him to have actually gone to bed, but he admits he also has no idea what he is doing, silence blanketing the apartment when he finally flicks the TV off and heads to shower.

He hesitates in the doorway of his own bedroom, and he’s doing that a lot lately, towelling off his hair and regarding his bed-mate where he lies, curled up on his side on the sheets, covers pooling over his hips and shirt rumpled. He looks like he’s been lying down for a while, and the main light has been flicked off, only Mizuki’s lamp illuminating him.

He’s on the wrong side of the bed, using the wrong pillow, too far away from the door and Mizuki thinks that was probably deliberate as he hangs his towel over the chair in the corner and quietly joins him.

He’s done smoking and is presumably planning on going to sleep soon, but it’s obvious he’s awake because of how shallow his breaths are, like he’s trying hard to be invisible.

Sly is changing, but it’s too fast, too much too soon for him and Mizuki can feel things going badly even as to an outsider everything looks great. He slips into bed next to him, too warm to need the covers over his top half and eyes focused on the back of Sly’s head, the trails of messy hair that run to just past his shoulder, back slim and ribs prominent.

“Sly?” He doesn’t respond but his pale skin seemed to shrink into itself as he spoke, as if trying to disappear into the soft sheets. “You stillhate this don’t you?”

He can feel Mizuki’s hand lingering in the no man’s land between them, not quite close enough to touch him, though he knew it could do easily. Swallowing thickly and wondering what to answer, “hate is a strong word.”

He would have laughed normally, he knew he would, because of all people to show disapproval of the word hate, Sly was the last person he would have expected. But nothing was funny now, this bed felt more like a coffin than it ever should and that blue hair was so far away they may as well be in different rooms. “But you still don’t like it.”

He hesitated again, he’d been doing that a lot lately, unable to just say what he was thinking when his thoughts scared him like this, voice small and uncertain even to him, “I don’t hate it.”

That wouldn’t sound like much of a reassurance from anybody else, but from Sly it was the closest to an admission that he might like this as Mizuki would ever get, and he licked his lips nervously as he shifted across the bed towards him. It felt like it took years for his palm to meet warm skin, not surprised as he flinched away, though it was obvious he was trying not to, tense under his touch but staying put, lying there like a board and so pale compared to the bartenders tan skin. He was tentative, like he was just waiting for Sly to snap at him to get the fuck off and move away, to stand from the warm bed and exile himself to the cold again, to harden like ice and be three times as frosty.

But for now he was still, breathing slowly and fairly evenly, occasionally hitching as the bartender grew braver, feeling like he was on some kind of bizarre mission, though he wasn’t sure what his goal was, maybe just to get him to relax. His neck was still speckled with tiny bite marks from a night or so ago, nothing in comparison to what it used to be and almost pretty where they marked the otherwise healing skin, injuries fading with the slow hands of time. Sweeping his hair off his neck carefully and fingers playing with the soft strands, freshly washed the night before and sliding silkily through the gaps in between his hands. His skin was supple and the invisible, downy hairs on his back tickled under his fingertips, running a rough palm across his back, tracing the dips at the base of his spine and trailing across the curve of his hip.

His sigh made goose bumps rise on his skin, prickling along his side as his arm wrapped round his slim middle and he pulled him into his chest, noting the catch in his breath and the way he suddenly turned stiff as a board in his arms. He wasn’t sure if he was sad for Sly, or for himself, for having to give his heart to somebody so horribly unequipped to deal with it, who couldn’t even handle the kiss he pressed into his hair a second later, scrunching his neck down as he tried to worm away from the touch.

But no, he was sad for Sly, who couldn’t believe in his feelings enough to accept them, wouldn’t let himself show even a second of weakness to get what he wanted, to allow himself to be warm and safe and loved even for a little while. He felt sad for him, because whatever he’d had happen to him in the past had made him like this, and it must have been more horrible than he could imagine, because he just wouldn’t let himself get used to anybody for fear they might leave.

He was relaxing though, softening under his arm and breathing almost steady now, back pressed against a firm, warm chest and his own arm tucked in tight to his stomach, protecting himself still from the threat of closeness. It took a long time for him to shift, Mizuki drifting into sleep, the smell of Sly filling all his senses and eyes flickering shut, breaths even and feeling comfortable and thoroughly happy with this temporary intimacy between them. He was half asleep when Sly’s hand moved, sliding over his and shaking nervously, as if he was terrified at showing some kind of complicity in this, at letting himself actually show affection for once. But his own cupped it easily enough, fingers slotting together and overlapping messily, just managing to nuzzle into his hair appreciatively before sleep overcame him once again and his eyes refused to stay open.

 

He woke a short time later, an hour, or eight seemed to have passed, he wasn’t sure how long but the sun was shining through the blinds and he was suddenly aware of why he’d woken as his eyes landed on blue hair, almost glowing under the rays of vibrant yellow light. Sly had shifted in his arms, seemingly far more awake than him and eyes almost shy as they regarded him, not aware he was awake yet and flitting over his skin slowly, taking it all in. Lingering on the gentle swallow of his Adams apple, skin tattooed white shifting as his gaze rose north, focusing on his lips for longer than he’d ever let himself sober, seeming to almost deflate and eyebrows creasing just slightly as he averted his gaze and frowned.

Mizuki always wondered what he was thinking at times like this, but normally just asking resulted in a scowl and the quick order to fuck off and mind his own business, but today was different, they were together now, albeit on trial, but still. The atmosphere was peaceful and calm and he wondered if maybe, just maybe, Sly might actually answer now, heaving a half sigh, half yawn and noticing the body in his arms tense only a tiny bit, which was an improvement he always liked to see.

“Hey,” his voice was thick with sleep and muggy, blinking tiredness out of his eyes and offering a small smile that wasn’t returned, though not for the usual reason, Sly’s yellow eyes almost golden and so open his breath caught as they met his, just letting Mizuki’s fingers trace his cheek as he tucked a strand of hair neatly behind his ear. “What you thinking about?”

He sucked a pink lip into his mouth, nibbling on it absently and eyes dropping down to his collarbones, as if he was afraid to look into his eyes for fear they’d see straight through him, looking back up a second later. He looked so small, so vulnerable where he lay nestled against his chest, half propped up against him and lips parting as if he was going to speak only to close instead as his eyes averted to the side. Then Mizuki shifted his hand onto the small of his back, drawing circles into his smooth flesh and offering him an encouraging smile, trying to tempt him to speak his mind for once, to let out some of the thoughts that must be strangling.

He was scared again, the tattooist could see it in his eyes, staring at his for a second and fingers twitching against his side as he hesitated for a moment, just gazing at him as if trying to work something out. He moved cautiously, still not answering the question as he cupped his cheek and brought his face to meet his, lips soft against his and fingers trembling only a little on his jaw, stroking up towards his ear.

He never liked this normally, this slow, almost lazy kissing, he liked it hard and rough and going somewhere, with sharp clawing nails and fingers digging into skin, he certainly never initiated it, usually just going along with it for a little while when the bartender did then ceasing just as quickly.

But living with him had changed something in him, and he was almost soft, pliable and bending to Mizuki’s way of thinking, his way of acting, easily, accepting the goodbye kisses in the morning and the arms that wormed round his waist as they watched TV. Had become almost selfish with his attention, straight up glaring at the suggestion that he spend time with other people, trying to be subtle and squirming into his side until he got the message and he got the contact he’d so obviously wanted. Even his voice was different, he swore less and smiled more, eyes not narrowed into suspicious slits and instead either wide and open or bathed in uncertainty and nervousness, at this new thing, this relationship they were pretending to have. Acting out the steps, repeating them until he got comfortable and could repeat them without fuss, stepping around each other neatly and not colliding with angry words and raised voices and fists flying like they always used to. Bruises and scratches and mean, nasty cuts healing up and bandaged with care, soft white cotton stretched up arms marred by his own hands, by others words and by the hatred they turned on him and he turned upon himself.

He was childish sometimes, the almost afraid expression in his face as he curled into Mizuki’s chest made him feel a little hollow inside, because he was so young to have felt so much pain. Sometimes he felt like if he could remove just a little of it, absorb it into himself like Sly’s scent had sunk into his bedsheets, then that would be enough, if he could take just a little of his pain away then he’d have played his part and could let whatever happened, happen.

But oh, he didn’t want to lose this, the warm body next to his, the tentative, trembling hand on the back of his neck and the fingers that knotted into his shirt lightly, as if trying to keep him near, as if afraid he’d escape as he himself had so many times before. He wanted this, and more, he wanted all that Sly could offer him, his anger and hate and harshly spat words, the shaking of his fingers when he touched him and the genuineness of his smile. He wanted every piece of him, good and bad, hated and loved, he wanted to see every unique aspect of his personality until his habits were so ingrained in his mind that nothing could ever hope to push them out.

But he was already moving away and the only words on his lips were, “so what were you thinking about?”

He tensed immediately and Mizuki almost regretted himself for speaking, at least until he smiled, small and unsure but sweeter than honey on his face, fingers playing with the collar of his t-shirt and not meeting his eyes as he licked his lips, dampness glistening on the plump pink skin. “You.”

He was still smiling when he looked up, but it faltered and flickered on his lips as Mizuki managed a lazy smile, because his honest, nervous words make something in his chest jump and he suddenly felt far warmer than he had before even with the body pressed up against him. Pleased hum escaping his lips as he pressed a kiss against his hair, smiling against the silken strands and nuzzling into his scalp, “hm, aren’t you cute.”

He could sense his pout even without being able to see it, voice sulky and almost like the teenager he sometimes forgot he was, “don’t call me cute.”

“But you are,” he retaliated, not noticing the elbow moving towards him until it was too late and it had jabbed him hard in the ribs and he had to move away with a gasp of pain as it dug into his sensitive side, yellow eyes fierce but still not as angry as they once would have been.

“Get bent, dickhead!” Harsh words but they were spoken with laughter as fingers dug into his sides and he squirmed feebly, trying weakly to hide his grin as the bartender essentially tickled him, foot pushing into his thigh as he managed to worm away with a weak glare. “Fucking sap.”

But his words were half hearted and Mizuki knew he didn’t mean them, although even he would admit he was a little bit of a sap, allowing Mizuki to pull him back into a hug and only trying to fight him weakly. It was a slow process, and the bartender knew that the next morning might not be anything like this, they might yell and fight, or Sly might doubt himself again and get angry or hell, he might even cry, but at moments like this, with him curled warm and soft against his side, he knew it would be worth any trouble that might come.

 

* * *

 

 

“You okay? You’re twitchy.” That’s an understatement, but his fingers are twiddling into the shirt at his sides and his eyes keep flitting from one nondescript building to another, staring at a lamp-post as if it’s something fascinating, worrying his lips over and over.

“Oh yeah, I’m back at the restaurant tomorrow. Kinda worried I’ll fuck up again.”

“Your suspensions finally over?” It was ridiculous that they’d suspended him anyway, but he supposed it was good that they’d at least paid him half his normal wage despite making him feel terrible and be overwhelmed with fear he’d lose his second job and be financially destitute.

Actually no, scratch that, Tio still thinks Kin’s manager is a horrible piece of shit.

“Mm-hm.”

“Alright. Wanna walk around for a bit? It’s still pretty warm, might help you relax more than going home and thinking about it too much.”  
“Yeah, okay,” he’s all up for wandering aimlessly, but he doesn’t see the point in just burning energy he’ll need for a full day of work, voicing his own suggestion with trepidation because he’s never shared this place before. “I know this really great spot to look at the stars, about half an hour away, if you’re up for that?”

He considered it for a minute, lighting a cigarette and figuring that with the warm evening air he’d quite enjoy a nice stroll, it wasn’t super late yet and he could deal with a little sleep deprivation for one night if it helped Kin relax. “Sure.”

 

It’s not as long a walk as he’s made out, and within twenty minutes they’re atop a fairly large, grassy hill, turning as they reach the top and catch their breaths with back and forth teasing about needing cardio and having weedy legs. Kin turns first to take in the view and he’s suddenly so incredibly excited that his entire tone changes, body unfurling from its nervous coil and awe in his voice.

“Oh it’s so clear, this is _perfect,”_ it was stunning, Tio could admit that, about to say as much when Kin interrupted with a burst of speech, so genuinely excited and all the anxiousness in his shoulders having seeped away already. _“_ Look, there’s OoGuma, oh and Katakana’s over there too. You see it?”

“Not really.”  
“Like a guy holding a bow and arrow, kinda?” He held a hand up and traced out a shape Tio couldn’t really follow, just smiling as he shrugged in admission of defeat, both of them checking the grass was dry before lowering themselves down to perch on the downy ground. “Never mind, that’s a hard one, I guess. Look, there’s Ohitsuji, like a slightly bent line?”

He has no idea what he’s talking about, but he humours him and nods even as he can just see scattered points of light that don’t look like much at all, let alone actual shapes of animals, “you know a lot about stars.”  
“Mm, I liked them when I was a kid. My house had a fairly flat roof so I used to climb onto it and watch them. My Mum told me when you see a shooting star you could make a wish, haven’t seen one yet though. Give me your hand,” Tio complied fairly easily, letting his digits be covered in warmth and encouraged to stick his pointer finger out, Kin guiding his hand to whatever constellation he wanted to show him. “That’s OoInu, the big dog, I like that one, and there’s KoInu somewhere too but I can never remember that one enough to find it.”

 

It was still warm, summer fast on the way and the grass they were sitting on not chilled enough to be uncomfortable, occasional breeze ruffling their hair and sending Kin’s stupid attempt at a quiff into his eyes a number of times. Whether he or Kin had moved closer he wasn’t sure, but this was really nice, just sitting quietly and gazing at the stars, being shown new constellations he could only truly see half the time but said he could nonetheless. Kin too seemed to have relaxed into this, shoulder pressed against his and knee lightly resting on his leg where he’d bent it, no touch of anxiousness in his voice as he quietly told the stories of stars with such gentle confidence he could have been an expert.

Tio was almost sleepy, comfortable and feeling remarkably safe, like they were untouchable up on their hill, sharing this special moment together and aware of how horribly soppy that was even though he felt really honoured to be the one Kin would do this with. It was beautiful too, the moonlight illuminating the island spread out below them, the glistening points of light where stars shone from millions of miles away just to bless those who bothered to look up to the sight of the speckled sky. Kin was a steady presence at his side, just exhaling a soft laugh as he yawned widely and tried to keep his eyes open, incredibly tempted to just take a nap in this secluded space he’d never known about before.

But he didn’t, he knew Kin was the exact type of asshole to carry him home were he to do anything of the sort and he didn’t need that embarrassment, instead he shifted a little nearer to Kin and rested his head tentatively on his shoulder. To his great credit, he didn’t so much as falter in his words, speaking about the moon now, how far away it was and how it reflected light from the sun.

He hadn’t known that, to be honest he had to admit that since school he’d forgotten approximately everything he’d learned, and space had never been his thing to begin with. He was a dinosaur kid at heart and a general knowledge nerd as an adult, so to learn the moon actually didn’t generate light was a little surprising, but also seemed like something he’d once known then forgotten. “So it be dark if the sun wasn’t there?”

“Mm-hm.”

“That would suck.”

“I guess so,” he debates pointing out that really it’s the moons gravitational field that’s important rather than its reflected light, but decided not to get into that. “Everybody needs a sun.”

Tio had a feeling Kin was a romantic, he seemed the type, but that line had been _so_ damned cheesy that he actually shifted on his shoulder to stare at him incredulously, because sometimes his soppy lines worked on him, but this was just too much. “That’s so gross.”  
“Shush, you’re ruining the moment.”

He snorted lightly, Kin shifting under his head, shoulders a little tense under him but not bothering to register it as he fell quiet for a moment and a sturdy weight came to rest on his curls. Tio felt loathe to break the silence, but he had a question and it was almost burning up his throat as he spoke, voice barely a whisper, like this was some sacred thing he wouldn’t dare break with unnecessary noise.

“Why do you like the stars so much?”

“Hm. They’re constant. They don’t change like the moon does, they’re there every night, the same as always. There’s no inconsistency with stars, you always know where you are with them. Plus they’re pretty.”

“That’s a good reason to like something.”  
“Or someone.” He’d moved again and Tio knew he was looking at him, just pretending he hadn’t noticed because his logic was sound and he had the feeling this venture had gone from a simple way to calm him down to something else entirely. He wasn’t sure how much he minded. He turned to look back into matching blues then even though it was a dumb idea and really the stars were so very pretty it felt wrong to ignore them for even a moment.

 _He’s a sap, a giant, gross, romantic sap, the cheesiest person._ Yet Tio knows he’s a sucker for cliché romance as much as Kin is for being the one to start it.

Kin had softer palms than he’d expected and for the first time he could feel his burn where it streaked across his fingers, marring them with scar tissue that landed on the very spot where his jeans were ripped, just above his knee. His fingers had curled up and it was almost cute, Kin’s slight reluctance to touch him properly and especially after he touched bare skin he hadn’t intended to, that distracting Tio enough that he was almost taken by surprise.

Ironic, to be so surprised by something he’d known was coming.

But surprised he was, and to such an extent to respond, albeit nervously because this was so stupid and every time they’d ever kissed in the past one of them had regretted it and the other had their feelings hurt. He was a little sick of feelings in general, to be honest, let alone to damage them more.

He didn’t touch him anywhere but his knee this time, other arm propping him up and the warmth of his fingers lying millimetres from Tio’s so hot it seemed to scald him as he shifted closer and his lips parted more and there was dampness on them that wasn’t his own.

He isn’t entirely sure what to say, or indeed do, when they separate, but for once he doesn’t push Kin away or say this was an awful mistake or anything of the sort, he does, however, think of something smart to say while Kin tangles their fingers together.

“You know, traditionally you’re meant to wait to kiss me til _after_ we go on a date.” He’s not even sure if he would have stuck to that, to be honest, he figures it would have been more of a spur of the moment type thing. Yes, it’s expected to kiss goodbye after a date but they aren’t exactly in a normal situation and they’ve already kissed a damn sight too many times for people who are supposedly ‘just friends.’

“Didn’t know you were so old fashioned. Guess I’ll have to wait then.” He speaks as if he didn’t already kiss him, but there again is the word ‘wait’, which fills Tio with relief because Kin is a good guy and he is willing to _wait_. The issue is that Tio isn’t sure exactly what it is he’ll have to wait for, or for how long. He still needs to sort some stuff out with himself, it would seem.

“You might be waiting a while if work stays as mad as it is.”

They’ve already had to reschedule once, Hideaki’s girlfriend was really sick and he’d had to take time off to look after her and their baby, and Mizuki still needs to find somebody else to train up for the job because really, they’re short-staffed. So his and Kin’s plans had been replaced with a shift instead and they’d rearranged their plans and Kin had to wait another week before he could even take Tio out let alone do anything else. He seemed to have found a nice compromise though, perfectly content to hold Tio’s hand in a loose grip as they gaze up at the sky, islands lights dim enough to not conceal the glittering heavens. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”  
“Well that’s depressing.”

“I do apologise, I’ll go climb Everest, shall I?”  
It’s a strange example, and Tio laughs as he imparts a fact he’s suddenly, and very helpfully, remembered, “I wouldn’t recommend it, one in nine people who try it die.”  
“Let me guess, Everest is your thing?”

“Nah, I have approximate knowledge of many things.”  
“Yeah? Like what?” He isn’t looking at the stars anymore, but his fingers are still and his lips are in that wonky smile so he seems relaxed enough, having turned sideways, body tilted towards Tio how it always is and interested to learn something new about him.  
“Like that… Apples originated in Kazakhstan.”

“Hm, what else? Tell me more weird facts.”

Tio just smiled then, Kin’s thumb absently rubbing across his hand, the mood friendly now with things cleared between them and the odd reassurance that he didn’t have to rush, that he wasn’t being an asshole because his feelings were all screwed up, it was nice. He even picked out his favourite and cutest fact to mark the moment, “a baby puffin is called a puffling.”  
“Seriously? Fuck. That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. A _puffling_. Fuck.” He laughs and it’s deep and his entire face breaks into the widest, happiest smile and Tio feels warmth burst into his chest for being to one to have caused it. Kin is exactly what he wants in a best friend, everything he wants in general, to be honest, though he keeps that quiet for now, it’s really too early for huge statements like that.

“I like that one too. Tell you what, I’ll tell you one dumb fact a day if you tell me something about stars.”

He contemplates this, tilting his head to the side and Tio noticing the slightest hints of stubble forming across his jaw, eyes drawn to it and the sharpness of his profile, the nose that perhaps is a little too long, the slight unevenness of texture across his cheeks. He’s remarkably distracted for a minute. “Does it have to be about stars? I know lots about the planets too.”  
“That’s cool. But did you know that… Some famous science person, I forget who,” his fact grows distinctly less impressive as he forgets one of the main details, forgoing it in lieu of lying and risking Kin somehow knowing he’s making part of it up. “Thought the rings on Saturn were Jesus’ foreskin?”  
“They did not.”  
“They did.”

“Prove it.”  
Arguing is something that characterises their friendship hugely, and Tio argues back immediately, not scared now as they’re both teasing each other and nobody is serious and feelings can’t be hurt with arguments like these. He can turn his tone sarcastic and mocking and nothing will blow up in his face, “Oh yeah sure, I’ll just ring them. ‘Hey, famous person whose name I can’t remember and died hundreds of years ago, tell me about Jesus’ dick skin again, would you?’”

His choice of words is absolutely not the best, and Kin blinks at him in some disbelief at the unusual and somewhat disrespectful phrase ‘Jesus’ dick skin’. He’s not religious though, so he laughs and wonders how they ended up there, “God, this conversation really fell apart, huh?”

“Most of our conversations do.”  
“True. Come on, we should probably go home, it’s late and _some of us_ have work tomorrow morning.”  
“Yes, some of us do.” He turns his tone stern as Kin uses their linked hands to pull him up, not separating and shoulders bumping playfully as they make their way back down the hill.  
“Oh, piercings, of course. Got any weird ones pencilled in?”

“Actually, and you’re going to love this. I have a guy coming in who pierced his own testicle and can’t get the ring out because it’s so swollen, so I’m taking it out for him. I’m horribly excited.”  
“He pierced his own testicle?”

“He certainly did.”  
“And I thought my life was a mess.”

Tio laughs and misses Kin smiling at him like he’s worth more than every star in the sky.

 

* * *

 

 

“What’s up with you? You’ve got a face like a slapped arse.”

Mizuki frowns, because really, a slapped arse always looks kind of appealing, provided that he’s been the one slapping it, mentioning this as he ditches his jacket onto its peg, “wouldn’t be so bad if it was your arse.”

“Someone else’s,” he waves this away dismissively, not even bothering to make an innuendo as he normally should, so Mizuki guesses his expression must be pretty bothered, even if he hasn’t noticed himself. “So, who hurt your _precious_ feelings?”

“Nobody,” he snorts at the mere idea of his feelings being hurt at work, trying to think of anything that’s bothering him and an image popping into his head so fast that has to be the thing effecting his expression. “Tio and Kin are just being weird.”

“So what’s different?”

“Nothing. I just asked if they could cover Tuesday again because nobody else can and Kin looked heartbroken, then they started muttering about rearranging something.” It had been a weirdly dramatic reaction, Kin’s face had actually crumpled and Mizuki could feel guilt and unease crawling out of his chest as Tio noticed and placed a placating hand on his arm.

“Maybe they had plans?”  
“Yeah, but what kind of plans?”

Sly snorts, rolling onto his front on the couch and reaching out a hand towards the cigarettes Mizuki has just removed from his pocket, half expecting to not be given them and looking surprised and pleased when he is. Voice distorted with one in his mouth as he speaks anyway, “why’d you care?”

“I don’t,” he replies, but it becomes clear after their next shift that that isn’t true at all.

 

* * *

 

 

“This isn’t really how I expected it to go,” Kin remarks, regarding the sea of bodies in front of him and immediately ignoring those with raised hands waving notes, queue jumping was not something he appreciated and everybody had to pay, the fact they had cash ready made no difference. If anything it was more annoying than a simple coil payment would ever be. “Not that I mind, you could use the money.”  
“I could?” Tio’s busy pouring a row of rainbow shooters from the cocktail mixer in his hands, watching the colour slowly fade from yellow to blue as the container empties, Kin is pulling beers at his side and Mizuki has disappeared into the back for more vodka to replace their depleted stash. “Why’s that?”

He leans in close to speak, partly because the bar is loud and partly because he doesn’t want Mizuki or anybody else to hear, but he’s maybe a little too close, or perhaps Tio is just overthinking this. Kin’s breath washes over his neck and it makes his skin prickle, bar suddenly seeming warmer than it already is, packed with bodies, he’s so close that Tio thinks if he moved slightly to the left, his nose would end up buried in his hair. He swallows, and the pounding of aggressive hip hop drowns it out. “I’m an expensive date.”

 

Date or not, something feels a bit different behind the bar tonight and every touch of Kin’s hand against his back as he squeezes past makes his skin tingle, turning pink when a drunk customer tries to proposition him and he dramatically sighs and says that his heart belongs to another. Even Mizuki raises an eyebrow at that one, glancing to Tio as if to ask if it’s true and snorting in good natured amusement as Tio expresses his disapproval by elbowing his tree-sized friend in the side, hard.

 

The shift’s over and Mizuki is out the back again, counting up the tills contents and leaving them alone almost deliberately the moment Kin groans in contented exhaustion and stretches upwards, fingers almost brushing the damn ceiling.

“What you doing?” He asks lazily as Tio swipes at something on his coil, not content to just peer over his shoulder and deciding it’ll be far easier and less effort to just dump his head atop Tio’s curls and lean his entire body weight against him. He’s heavy, yes, but Tio’s tired too and to be honest he’d happily curl up on the nearest couch and take a long nap, so he speaks anyway and ignores the fact he can feel Kin’s firm chest flush against his back.

“Looking for a better date on Tinder.”

He’s not, the island doesn’t even _have_ Tinder, he’s just tormenting Kin, who somehow moves even closer, hands reaching around him to take his wrist and regarding the page his coil displays, his chuckle making something in Tio burn alarmingly hot as he feels the vibrations spread through his chest. “Never been compared to a labradoodle before, but she _is_ cute so I’m not too offended.”

He tries to reply but stumbles on the words because it’s so warm pressed between Kin and the bar and _fuck,_ he might be a little bit turned on right now, feeling a flush rise on his cheeks because Kin still has the coil so his arms are still wrapped around him and he’s suddenly very aware of how built his arms are.

He shouldn’t have accepted that beer from Kaoru, or those shots from the hen party who had given him a feather boa and _insisted_ he had a couple with them, he shouldn’t have been cheeky and poured him and Kin vodka cokes to start the shift. He shouldn’t be a little tipsy and a little sleepy and very, very conscious that his pulse is racing and Kin has to feel it where he holds his wrist still to see the screen better.

He says a silent thank-you to himself for not wearing his slit-sided vest today like he’d intended, pretty sure Kin’s arms against his bare sides might have caused him to blow some kind of fuse, discovering he found his best friend attractive in this way is shock enough.

“You’re getting a dog?” Said friend though seemingly has no idea that Tio is currently thinking about his deep voice saying other, less family friendly things, and just makes a distant sound of agreement, something between ‘yes’, and ‘I am’.

“Yam?” He’s laughing again and he really needs to stop doing that because he can’t get the idea out of his head that he should jump onto the counter, grab Kin’s stupid face and kiss him until he’s breathless. Blinking in alarm because this is his best friend he’s currently thinking about and of course he’d take this long to realise how much he’d like to jump his bones, or, more truthfully, how much he’d like to have his bones jumped. “That what you’re going to call it? Or am I squashing you so much you can’t breathe?”

“Second one,” his voice is breathy enough by itself that the excuse works efficiently, Kin humming against his head and stepping back enough for Tio to turn round to regard him which sets off alarm bells because it is a _mistake._ He’s so much taller that he ends up staring at his collarbones, at the faintest sheen of sweat that covers all of his skin, close enough to see the constellation of freckles that continue across his neck and décolletage.

Kin opens his mouth again, possibly to ask about the dog despite the fact that his coil has automatically locked itself and Kin doesn’t know the password, but he must notice Tio’s staring at him, or perhaps he identifies the expression on his face because his voice drops both an octave and loses most of its prior volume when he speaks.

“Pretty hot in here, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” he can’t even explain it, but Kin’s voice is doing things to him it shouldn’t be, and either he’s really sexually frustrated, or Kin is just that damn hot that he’s lost all sense of where he is and who he’s with and the idea of taking things slow and being careful flies out of the window.

Maybe he’s drunk. Yeah, probably just drunk.

Kin’s eyes have narrowed and since he’s looking down on Tio, they look hooded and intense as they stare at him, flickering across his face, reading his expression, the nervous way he licks his lips and the high flush on his cheeks and the soundless way his entire body says _please, please just kiss me_.

“Kinda… Seems like it’s gotten hotter,” his words are cautious and if Tio wasn’t so incredibly poised on the brink, he’d snort at what a bad line that is, but he almost doesn’t hear it because Kin has ducked down to kiss him with damp lips parted and the air between them grows thinner. The first touch is cautious, there’s a hand on his jaw but he doesn’t push Kin away for once and instead his hands bunch into his shirt, colliding them together and Kin doesn’t even hesitate to kiss him again and maybe they’re both desperate because there’s something hungry in the way his hands shove into his hair so abruptly.

He smells amazing, like the ocean, fresh and crisp and salty, though that’s probably just sweat, Tio doesn’t really care much either way because his brain has already short-circuited and even with the needy way Kin’s grabbing at him, there’s still softness in his grip. He tastes like energy drink and the cigarette break they’d managed to sneak two hours earlier in a lull of customers and it’s _wonderful_.

Kin bites his lip and it’s most likely an accident given how intense this has gotten, but he gasps anyway and if he could hear over the pounding of blood in his ears, he’d say Kin had growled. The heat in his body is only growing and Kin’s hand slides up his neck to cup his jaw and leaves fire in its wake, tingling through his skin and making him feel less grounded than ever as he’s pulled closer to him and his back leaves the counter and for a moment they’re almost losing their balance.

They switch places messily, an awkward dance until it’s Kin’s back facing the bars entrance, crowding Tio against the back counter and his brain has turned to mush other than the desperate chant of, _yes, yes, yes,_ so he doesn’t really gather where they are or that Mizuki could walk in at any second. He just kisses Kin harder and his arm reaches out for the counter-top when they nearly stumble, too focused on touching each other to stand still.

But then his hand touches something cold, there’s a huge crash, and everything breaks all at once, the contact between them shattering as fast as the new, expensive bottle of spiced rum he’s managed to majestically swipe onto the floor.

Kin jumps away from him in alarm and somehow rams his elbow against the opposite counter with a nasty thud, hissing in pain and just like that everything goes downhill, there’s a rapidly increasing puddle of expensive liquor spreading around their feet and Kin’s rubbing his elbow and grimacing but his lips are still red and for a moment Tio is utterly distracted.

“Oh shit!” But then, of course, common sense sinks in and Tio’s reached down to grab the bottom half of the bottle and hold it as if they’d ever be able to serve the remaining litre or so, swishing it round and frowning as glass shards clink within it. He’s suddenly very irritated at the bottle for stopping what had undoubtedly been a very good, if ill-advised, thing, glaring at it as if expecting an apology for being in the wrong place at the right time. “Stupid fucking thing.”

Kin finds the whole situation amusing, even as he flexes his elbow, checking to see if he’s actually broken it because it sure feels like he has, laughing in embarrassed disbelief and ducking to hide his head in Tio’s neck.

“We’re a disaster,” he can feel Kin’s breath washing over the front of his shirt and he laughs along in agreement, knowing Mizuki will be in at any moment but tentatively twining his fingers into the shirt at Kin’s side. “We should clean up.”

“Mm,” he hums in agreement, adjusting his head so his nose brushes Tio’s skin briefly and he’s sad for a moment because he feels like maybe this won’t happen again for a while, like maybe they both realise this could have easily gone too far and become a mistake. But Kin presses two, soft kisses to his neck and lightly squeezes his sides before he draws back and Tio’s cheeks are definitely red again.

 

They’re kneeling to try and somehow fix it within seconds, then Kin’s finger is dripping blood everywhere and _of course_ it is, he’s the clumsiest person Tio’s ever met, Mizuki’s rushed in from wherever he was after hearing the crash and he only goes and fucking slips on the wet floor.

Tio’s left there with the ability to do nothing but stare as Kin’s finger gushes all over the shirt he’s rapidly yanked up to wrap it in, feeling a strange sense in the back of his head that perhaps he should be apologising rather than staring at the strip of Kin’s stomach he can see. Or maybe he should be more concerned that he’s, you know, _bleeding everywhere._

But as it is he just stares and lets his feet splash about in the puddle they’ve made and feels events flood back as if he’s been in some state of shock.

Mizuki groans and rubs his side as he straightens up, hot, bothered, and looking like he’d rather die than have to deal with anything else after such an insane shift with more than it’s fair share of rude, unreasonable customers. But for some reason, Tio suddenly finds everything hilarious and despite the incredibly pissed off look on his boss’ face, he starts laughing and can’t stop, giggling into his hand and rum slopping in the remains of it’s bottle.

He’s cackling and even Kin is suddenly finding the humour in the situation, biting his lip hard to keep from laughing because Mizuki looks _furious_ and they are still at work after all, trying to ask if he’s okay through his peals of amusement as he takes his hand and helps him up, legs soaked where he’d landed hard.

“I- I’m _so_ sorry, a-are you okay?”

He’s still annoyed as he straightens himself up and regards the mess, pointing a stern finger at Tio that somewhat halts his laughter as he tries to control the hysteria bubbling up in him at how badly things always go with him and Kin. Apart they can function fine, but the moment they’re together disaster always spikes, “this is coming out of your wages.”

He turns to Kin then and any smile has faded from his face, Mizuki faltering in his words as he realises he should say the same to Kin, but finds he can’t, “you can clean this up.” He points the finger between them both with mild aggression, looking tired and rubbing at his damp side where he’d suddenly plummeted to the hard ground, “lock up when you’re done, I’m going to bed. I’m fucking _done_ with this shift.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sly seems mildly confused when Mizuki arrives back in the apartment minus a shirt and plus the absolute _stench_ of alcohol, but any concern he might have had dies the second Mizuki explains and he cackles so hard he almost rolls off the sofa.

He should be annoyed that he’s being mocked, but it’s nice to see Sly happy and even nicer when he slips into the shower enclosure behind him less than twenty minutes later.

 

* * *

 

 

The walk home is a little uncomfortable to begin with, but then Kin suddenly speaks and things are out in the open and Tio supposes it’s best to talk about these things, it’s hardly normal to be making out one minute and mopping up a mixture of blood and rum the next. It is though, an entirely _them_ thing to happen.

“Only you would spend weeks showing no interest whatsoever then suddenly jump me at work.”  
“I’m sorry, jump you? You started it.” He is indignant, but it is all false and if anything they both started it.

“Oh please, you were the one looking all…” His voice trails off and it seems they both burn red with embarrassment at the same time, Tio imagining the ridiculous expression he must have had and Kin wondering just how he’d go about describing that. “Whatever. I’m blaming you.”

“Oh, you regret it that much you have to blame me?” He’s joking but Kin looks disgruntled and he has to make it obvious before he does something both mortifying and endearing like saying he could never regret something like that, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Joking, Kin. But next time I jump you, I won’t do it at work.”  
He reacts to the teasing provocation perfectly and Tio’s laugh breaks through the quiet of 3am streets. “So you admit you jumped me!”

 

“Just, one thing,” Kin nods, ever reasonable and growing seemingly more so as their hands ‘accidentally’ brush and Tio takes the incentive to twine their fingers together, heart pounding nervously at how together this makes them look. “No labels? Just, you know, keep things casual, see how it goes?”

There’s a hint of real anxiousness in his voice, nervous that he’s continuing to be difficult and make things harder than they need to be, but Kin squeezes his hand and nods slowly, “okay, keep it casual, we can do that, if that’s what you want to do.”

“There’s just less chance of things going wrong that way, you know, like if a ‘boyfriend’ does something it’s a lot more to lose. Safer not to have labels for a while, really, just in case.”

Kin is clearly lost, but he nods anyway, face twisting in confusion and they continue along in silence for a while, shoulders jostling together and night air warm and balmy where a slight breeze ruffles their hair. “What is it you think I might do?”

“Not you! Me.” He’s talking in circles a little, saying too much and still not making sense, aware he’s babbling and trying to explain himself without giving too much away. Without telling the truth he’s so afraid of. “Or, well, either of us, I guess, jus- It’s easier to get over somebody doing something bad if you’re not super serious.”  
“So… You don’t want to be serious?”

“Bit early for the relationship talk, don’t you think?”

He can feel something uncomfortable crawling under his skin, changing the subject because his conversation is serious and serious never leads to anything good. He has his own language when it comes to things like this, things like ‘seeing each other’, and ‘seeing how it goes’, and ‘taking things slow.’

“I like spending time with you already, and if now that means holding hands and stuff, I’d like that too, I just don’t want to dive right into something without… Being one hundred percent sure.”

“Oh, okay, I guess that makes sense. I’ll meet you at the diving board.” It’s a very stupid metaphor, but he likes it nonetheless, almost as much as he likes Kin kissing him goodbye before they part, almost as much as he likes the understanding smile his response earns.

“I’ll find my trunks.”

 

He’s annoyed at Mizuki and grateful at the same time, because he knows that if it had just been the two of them in the bar he would have let Kin push hands up his shirt, and kiss down his neck and hoist him up onto the counter to-

He really needs to stop thinking about this before he gets himself worked up, but he has the feeling it’s not gunna work because he already feels hot under the collar and he imagines he can still taste Kin on his lips.

He definitely feels all hot and bothered again, pushing his fringe off his forehead and shoving a hand down his jeans with minimal guilt, closing his eyes to remember the look in Kin’s eyes and trying to ignore the stench of spiced rum that reminds him what happened after.

When his eyes open again he feels a little sick.

He doesn’t get to sleep for a long time.

 

* * *

 

 

Weirdness at work aside, ignoring the throbbing of the bruise forming along his left side, he feels happy again with Sly at his side, back spotted with water droplets he hadn’t bothered to wipe away properly after their impromptu joint shower. He’s flooded with affection at moments like this, where they are quiet and together and it seems like it’s going to last forever, where Sly’s eyes are slowly fluttering shut and he can see faint freckles on his shoulders from the daytime sun.

There’s a long, ugly scar on his back, his wrists are the usual mess of old cuts and cigarette burns, his hair is an awful, tangled mess and there’s a bite mark right in the middle of his left ass cheek.

He’s perfect, so he says so. “You’re beautiful.”

It’s said so abruptly, that bless him, he’s so taken by surprise that he can’t even resent it, blinking in surprise before regarding himself slowly, the bare plane of his back and his legs where they lazily link in the air behind him.

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do.”

He nods, considering this for a moment, shifting across the bed, pushing hair behind an ear, “thanks.”

“No problem.”

And Sly, satiated by the soft mattress and the silence, just huffs an exhale and they speak no more about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character Designs, updates, ficart and other things of interest- [here](http://minky-way.tumblr.com/tagged/intravenous-series)
> 
> Thanks for reading guys! The next installment 'Fevered' is nearly complete and should be up within a month.


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